CHAPTER SIXTEEN
With his thumb marking the spot in the book he was reading, Ski walked down the hall to the front door. He pulled it open and smiled at the woman standing there. “Well, hello.”
Erin didn’t reply. She was too busy staring up at the sky.
Curious, Ski stepped past the doorway and stood beside her, looking up. He growled in annoyance before yelling, “Bear Ingolfsson, you put that Raven down right—no! No! Not like—”
Stieg Engstrom landed facedown, and both Ski and Erin cringed at the sound of it. The crunching.
“Oh, God,” Erin muttered, “I think he killed him.”
But Ravens were made of tougher stuff. It was never easy to kill a Raven and Ski knew it. The Protectors had been trying for centuries to lay waste to the Raven Clan with very little success. They were not immortal, but Odin had given them incredibly hard heads and strong bones.
Even now, Engstrom was moving, using his arms to push his body up.
Bear landed behind him, pulling his white wings into his body as he did.
“What were you thinking?” Ski demanded. “Unleashing your wings during the day? Attacking a Raven unprovoked?”
“I was provoked!”
“How? ”
“The way he looked at me was filled with provocation.”
Ski didn’t even have time to roll his eyes at that bit of ridiculousness because Stieg had pushed himself off the ground and, face bloody, was charging Bear.
Bear tried to grab the Raven around the waist but just as his arms reached out, Engstrom’s entire body flipped up and over the much bigger man until he was behind Bear; Engstrom’s arms wrapped around Bear’s throat in a move that would kill most Protectors pretty quickly, but Bear had a neck so thick it was hard to find shirts that fit him properly.
Ski desperately tried to separate the pair, but they were snarling and growling at each other; Engstrom trying to kill Bear; Bear trying to toss Engstrom off so he could kill him.
“Stop it!” Ski ordered. “Both of you! Now!”
Then they all froze, none of them willing to move.
The Crow had climbed up Bear like she was climbing an old redwood and pressed the rune-covered blades hand-forged by Vig Rundstöm against the jugulars of Stieg and Bear. And while her hands were busy with her weapons, it was Erin’s exceptionally strong thighs that kept her attached to an unwilling Bear. There would be no shaking her off.
Even worse, one slight move of that blade would bleed both men out in seconds. And they all knew it.
Also, this was Erin Amsel. Not Kera. Not Jace. Not even Chloe, who was more of a puncher. But Erin Amsel.
The woman had gutted Thor once, a move he still hadn’t forgiven her for, even if it was at a Valkyrie party where he got drunk on mead and then got a little “handsy.”
“Gentlemen,” Erin practically purred, no anger in her voice at all. She was enjoying this. “Don’t tempt me to put a stop to this the only way I know how. Let’s all just calm down.”
Neither man budged. Even Bear, who was beginning to turn an interesting shade of blue.
Erin looked first at Engstrom. “You know what I’ll do to you,” she said, immediately dismissing him and focusing instead on Bear. “And when you’re dead,” she warned, “I’ll make sure to burn your books. Every. Last. One. Of. Them.”
Always worried about the books the Protectors safeguarded with their very lives if necessary, Bear quickly lifted his hands off Engstrom’s big arms. But the Raven still didn’t back off . . . until Erin pushed her blade against his throat. Not enough to kill him, but enough to get her point across.
A thin line of blood trailed down his neck. Shocked, he unwrapped his arms from Bear and stepped away. He touched the spot where she’d cut him, his hurt and angry gaze locked on Erin’s face as she climbed down from a coughing Bear.
“You . . . you . . .”
“What? You thought I was kidding?” Erin asked Stieg. “You two were acting like assholes.” She turned away from the sputtering man and faced Ski. “I need a favor.”
“Anything.”
“I need to talk to Tyr. Can you summon him?”
“Oh, a summoning ceremony isn’t necessary. He’s in the backyard playing with Jace’s dog.”
“Your god just . . . hangs out here?”
“Yeah.” Ski shrugged. “When he can.”
Erin began to say something else, but seemed to change her mind, walking off with a shake of her head into the house.
Bear and the Raven began to follow, but Ski quickly stopped them. “I’ll just say this once . . . Jace is in the library. If you two get into it when she’s this concerned about her friend, you risk the books,” he pointed out to Bear. “And you risk having her tear the skin from your hide and the wings from your back, Raven. Understand?”
With mutual Viking grunts of agreement, the three men entered the house and went to see what Erin Amsel could possibly want from the mighty god Tyr.
* * *
Erin walked through the Protectors’ house, amused at the way they all seemed to sense her presence. They came out of rooms, down the big, marble stairs, heads peeking around doors. She felt like a fox walking into a henhouse and making all the herding dogs panic.
Erin stopped at the big library. It was the biggest library she’d ever seen in a private home and the largest room in the entire mansion. She was sure the Protectors had gutted a large portion of the wing so they had a lot of space for their precious books.
Erin appreciated the work they did. She’d always liked old books. She liked how they felt in her hands, the binding, the paper, the artistic quality of each one. But she didn’t let the Protectors know that. It was much more fun to torture them, which was why she faced the big glass doors of the library and cracked her knuckles. That was all she did.
But apparently that was all she needed to do. Because she was suddenly surrounded. Several of the Protectors stood right in front of the library, ready to sacrifice their bodies to her flames if it meant saving their books.
Now that was devotion.
Laughing a little, she moved on, walking down the hallway until she found sliding glass doors that led her outside to the backyard.
That’s where she found the Protectors’ “mighty” god Tyr. On his back in the grass, Jace’s funny-looking puppy standing by Tyr’s big head, licking the god’s laughing face.
It was not what Erin expected, but she had to admit, it made her feel much better about her choice of which god to talk to.
She’d started walking toward him when a hand clamped on her arm and pulled her back.
“And where do you think you’re going, young lady?”
Young lady? Really? “To start some shit!” she replied eagerly. “Wanna come with me?”
Clucking his tongue against his teeth, Haldor wrapped his arm around Erin’s waist and carried her back into the house. “You will not bother our god with your . . .” He struggled to find the right word, so Erin decided to help him. “My beauty?” she asked, grinning. “My charm? My effervescence? My . . . je ne sais quoi?”
“No,” he replied, voice flat. “None of those things.”
“What’s happening?” Stieg asked as he came around the corner, his hand still pressed against the tiny wound she’d given him on his throat.
Good Lord. What a big Viking baby!
“I’m trying to prevent this demoness from irritating our mighty god Tyr,” Haldor informed Stieg. “And what are you doing here, non-thinker?”
Erin bit the inside of her cheek to stop the laughter, but wow, did she love the way Haldor had spit that out . . . like it was the absolute worst insult he could think of.
“Is Tyr back there?” Stieg asked her.
“Yes,” Erin replied. “And he is literally playing with Jace’s dog. Literally.”
Using his free hand, Stieg pushed Haldor aside and used his body to force Erin back into the yard. She stumbled past the threshold.
Tyr looked up from the puppy now on his lap. “A Crow?” he asked, his voice making everything sort of . . . vibrate.
Erin briefly wondered if the scientists who monitored California for earthquakes were staring at their fancy controls and wondering if the “big one” was coming right at that moment.
“What’s a Crow doing in the sacred space of our books?”
“Big reader of books, are ya, Tyr?”
“Be nice,” Stieg warned, holding the sliding door shut with his hand while the Protectors on the other side tried to pry it open.
“I was nice.”
“No. You were sarcastic and mocking. Try something different. And no juggling or fistfights.”
Stieg was right. They needed Tyr. So she took a deep breath, let it out, and moved closer to the very moral and upstanding war god—a combination one simply did not hear about very often.
“I need information. And I think you’re the only one who can help me.”
Rubbing the puppy’s ears, the god looked directly at Erin, and his eyes narrowed in recognition. “Oh, it’s you.”
She shrugged. “It’s me.”
“Skuld’s vicious little fire starter.”
“I prefer flame master.”
“Of course you do.”
Tyr placed Jace’s puppy on his shoulder and stood. And the god kept standing. He wasn’t even in his “true” god form. He was in his mostly human one. And yet he was about eight feet tall and so wide.
Like the Great Wall of China.
And that wall was now standing in front of and over her, staring coldly down into her face.
Except for his size, Tyr looked more like an ex-roadie for Led Zeppelin or Alice Cooper. He had on a very worn T-shirt with the logo from the Heavy Metal movie, torn black jeans, and black steel-toed boots. He’d braided his gray and brown hair into one long plait that rested casually over his right shoulder and his face had one big scar from his cheek down across his mouth and under his chin. So deep his thick beard couldn’t even cover it. The hair had refused to grow. He had runes tattooed on his neck and arms, and the right hand that had been torn off by the wolf Fenrir was replaced by a metal glove, also covered in runes.
The god couldn’t be more Viking, even in his modern—for the seventies—clothes.
“So what do you want, little Crow? What do you want to ask the mighty Tyr?”
And humble! Just like most gods.
Erin sighed. She’d hoped for better from the lesser-known god. “I need your vast knowledge.”
“There’s a library full of vast knowledge right in there. Why bother me?”
“I’m not a big reader,” she replied.
Tyr stared down at her. “Who admits that? In public, I mean?”
“Plus, I’m not allowed in your precious library. Your men are very bitchy about it, too.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t threaten them so.”
“I’m a Crow.” She grinned. “That’s what we do.”
The god rolled his brown eyes. “Fine, Crow. Tell me what you want to know and I’ll judge whether you are worthy to know it.”
“Fair enough. I need to know about—”
Arms around her stopped Erin’s words; sobs against her neck had her cringing.
Erin reached her hands up—the most she could do with her arms pinned at her sides—and patted Jace.
The god’s expression changed instantly. “My little Jace,” he said, awkwardly patting Erin’s sister-Crow on the back. “What has you so sad?”
“I’m killing her!”
Erin cringed. She had no idea how to handle this. She looked over her shoulder to see if Stieg could help, but he was still holding the sliding door shut, which didn’t make sense since Jace had managed to get past him.
“What are you doing?” Erin asked Stieg.
“Giving you time to get your answers from Tyr. What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Holding a door shut for absolutely no reason.”
“What?” Stieg turned his head and saw that all the Protectors were gone. “Uh-oh.”
They landed on him in one big pile, Protectors pinning Stieg to the ground with their big feet—the same way owls pinned their prey. It was not pretty.
The only one who didn’t attack Stieg was Ski Eriksen. He came around the side of the house—probably the same way Jace had come—and moved behind his woman. With gentle hands, he attempted to pull her off Erin, but Jace just held on tighter, which did nothing but make Erin feel even more uncomfortable.
And trapped. Erin felt seriously trapped.
That’s when they appeared, attacking the Protectors with their talons, squawking in their faces, and shitting on their heads. The only ones they didn’t assault were Erin, Jace, and Stieg.
And Jace’s dog, of course. Because none of the Crows—human and bird—wanted to deal with a raging Brodie Hawaii. The dog protected the pup like he was her own.
Ski stumbled back and hid his eyes from groping talons ready to yank them right out of their sockets while several landed on the back of Tyr’s neck and pecked at the god’s head.
Jace finally released Erin and stepped back. Horrified, she pointed an accusing finger at Erin. “You call them off right now, Erin Amsel!”
“I didn’t know I’d called them!” she argued.
“I don’t care! Do something!”
Erin, unsure what to do, raised her arms and loudly stated, “That’s enough! Back off!”
And the Crows did. But they didn’t go far, flying up into nearby trees and perching on branches. Keeping a close eye on the humans they trusted and the humans they didn’t.
“Sorry,” Erin said to the Protectors, several of which must have been hit by birds with diarrhea, they were so covered.
Snarling and grumbling, those Protectors went back into the house. Most likely to bathe.
Ski first opened one eye, then another. When he realized he was no longer at risk, he adjusted the eyeglasses he wore, only to realize that one of the lenses had been shattered by a determined crow.
The Protector’s gaze locked on Erin and, nodding her head toward Jace, she whispered, “She started it.”
* * *
Stieg managed to jump between Erin and Jace before the taller Crow could tear into her sister.
“I warned her, Stieg!” Jace roared between clenched teeth. “I warned her if she used that excuse again—”
“I know. I know. She’s ridiculous and shallow. But we need her, right? We do need her.”
“Shallow?” Erin demanded behind him. “I’m not at all shallow. I am filled with love and caring and—”
Stieg reached behind him, wrapped his hand around Erin’s face, and shoved her away.
Her annoying laughter as she flew back proved he’d made the right choice.
“Let me handle this, Jace. Okay?”
Managing to rein in her rage—somehow—Jace gave a curt nod. “See me before you leave.”
“We promise.”
Jace stormed back to the house, Ski following, his smirk making Stieg want to slap the living hell out of him. But he had bigger issues than his righteous hatred of the know-it-all Protector.
Once they were alone with the god, Stieg faced Erin.
She’d gotten to her feet and was wiping dirt off her tight ass. “That was rude,” she complained.
“Quiet.” He focused on Tyr. “We need to know about Nidhogg.”
The god studied Stieg. “What is this ‘we,’ Raven?”
“Yeah,” Erin began, “what is this—”
“Quiet.” Stieg barked again.
“Rude!”
“I’m helping her,” Stieg explained to the curious god. “By Odin’s beard, I think we both can agree she clearly needs all the help she can get, don’t we?”
Tyr glanced back at Erin, sighed, and nodded. “Yes. She really does.”
Laughing, Erin threw up her hands. “Hey!”
“Quiet!” both males barked at her.
Erin fell silent, but not before muttering, “Rude.”
* * *
Bear walked into the library with her dog, Lev, under his arm, and Jace knew immediately something was wrong.
“What?” she asked, standing up from the table covered in ancient books and documents she’d been scouring just a few minutes prior, desperately searching for any information that could save her friend from unavoidable death.
“I went out to check on our mighty Tyr, but he, Erin, and the slow-witted idiot”—Jace rolled her eyes because she knew she had to sit through Raven-related insults after what had just happened—“were gone.”
“Erin and Stieg are gone?” That was surprising because Stieg had promised he’d stop by before leaving. Stieg never broke his promises. To anyone, much less Jace.
“They’re all gone. And Tyr was staying for dinner,” Bear went on to explain. “Haldor’s making his beef stew and Tyr always stays for Haldor’s stew.”
“Are you saying Tyr took Erin somewhere . . . away?”
Bear shrugged his big shoulders. “I guess. But he left the dog.” He took Lev in both hands and held him out for Jace to get a good look at. Not to hand off to her, just so that she could see her dog and know he was safe. It was becoming harder and harder to pry sweet Lev away from the big man each night. Jace, however, was determined to get Bear his own dog. She simply had to find the right one.
Deciding she wouldn’t worry about what Ski now called “the Lev issue” or about Erin and Stieg, she suggested, “I’m sure this will be fine. I’m sure Tyr merely took them somewhere to talk. To help them get that information they wanted from him. See, gentlemen?” she said to Ski’s nearby brethren. “Erin is thinking ahead and planning on how she will handle all this. I’m . . . I’m sure it will all be fine.”
“Except,” Bear felt the need to add, “our mighty Tyr is now trapped alone with a Raven—he hates Ravens—and, of course, he’s trapped with Erin. Your Erin.”
“Ooh,” Borgsten said, wincing.
“What ooh?” Jace demanded. “Why are you oohing?”
“Well, Erin is the one that got Fulla—the goddess of fertility, known to be really sweet and caring—to spit in her face.”
“That was a . . . a . . . misunderstanding.”
“But then Fulla put a bounty on her head with the Giant Killers.”
“That’s how they got those unfortunate burns,” Haldor reminded them.
“And at the time she’d only been a Crow, for what?” Bear asked. “Six months?”
“Three,” Ski admitted.
Jace sighed and pulled her cell phone from her back jeans pocket. “I better call Kera . . .”