CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Ski carefully returned the book he’d removed from the library. Sure it was exactly where it belonged, he turned—and faced Bear.
“You took that book out of this room?” Bear demanded, his angry eyes narrowed to slits, lips pinched, jaw clenched.
“Bear—”
“You, of all people, know that our books should never leave this room. This sacred space couldn’t be more secure, and yet you risk our precious, precious books because you want to read in the bathtub!”
“I did not take it anywhere near a bathtub. I had it in the kitchen—”
“Kitchen? Around all those condiments and Haldor’s stew?” he bellowed.
“Brother, brother, calm yourself.” Ski placed his hand on Bear’s shoulder. “I know protecting our books is your sacred destiny, but this entire house was built for the care and love of these precious books. Now”—he stepped in closer—“what’s really bothering you?”
“I don’t know.” Bear put his hand over his heart. “I just feel that something horrible has happened to a book somewhere that has my ancestors crying out in horror and pure pain.”
Ski lowered his hand and stepped back. “Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously!”
“My god, brother. We need to get you a dog.”
“I have a dog.”
“That’s not your dog. That’s Jace’s dog. Never forget that.”
“She shares him with me!”
“Only because you give her no choice!”
Borgsten appeared in the library archway. “Ski?”
“What?”
“They’re back.”
“Thank, Tyr.” He gestured at Bear. “Because I can’t talk to you anymore.”
“Why not?” Bear asked, hurt. “I’m friendly!”
* * *
While Tyr headed into the kitchen to get at Haldor’s stew—it did smell good—Erin grabbed Stieg’s arm and pulled him toward the side of the house.
“What are we doing?” he asked as he let her pull him. “What about Haldor’s stew?”
“I can’t believe you’re still hungry, and we’re making a run for it.”
“Why are we running?”
“Because I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to—”
“Ah-haaaaa!” Jace said, dropping in front of them from the second floor. She pointed at Erin. “You’re trying to make a run for it,” she accused.
“No, we weren’t.”
“You’re such a bad liar, Erin Amsel.”
“I don’t understand. I’ve always thought I was an excellent liar.”
“You went off with Tyr—”
“It’s not like he asked us.”
“—and I know you were at my grandmother’s earlier.”
“That’s—”
“Don’t lie to me!”
Erin turned to Stieg, ready to accuse him of opening his big mouth, but he quickly reminded her, “I’ve been with you. I haven’t had time to say a word to her.”
She knew he was right, so she pointed at the birds in the trees.
“Rats! Rats with black wings!” One of the crows squawked at her and Erin unleashed her wings to fly up there, but Jace caught her arm to stop her.
“Leave them alone”—she yanked her closer—“and tell me what’s going on.”
Erin pulled her wings back in, gently placed her hands on Jace’s shoulders, leaned in so she could look in her eyes, and replied, “No.”
Then she walked away from her friend, dragging a confused Stieg behind her.
* * *
Stieg looked back at his friend. Sputtering and shocked, Jace stood there watching them walk away.
“She’s . . . uh . . . starting to yell at us in Russian . . . or something, I think.”
“Just keep moving. We need to get to your truck.”
“Why don’t we tell her—”
“Trust me. Just keep moving.”
“She’s getting really angry. She’s going to blow.”
“Keep moving.” Erin pushed him forward. “Get the truck started. Now. I’ll deal with her.”
* * *
By the time Stieg got into his truck and started it, Erin was pulling the passenger-side door open and dropping into the seat.
“Go.”
Stieg leaned forward and looked past her out the window. “Did you put her in a sleeper hold?” he demanded, seeing poor Jace out cold on the grass.
“It was the only way to calm her down.”
“You didn’t calm her down, Erin. You knocked her out.”
“Tomato, toma—”
“Erin!”
“Just go!”
“You did the same thing to her grandmother. Was that to calm her down, too?”
“No. That was to kill her, but you stopped me. Look.” Erin gestured at Jace. “The Protectors are already out there to take care of her. We need to go before she wakes up and charges your truck with her head like a bull coming after a matador.”
Stieg put his truck in drive and pulled away from the house. After they’d been driving for a few minutes, he finally asked, “How do you live with yourself?”
Rubbing her nose with the back of her hand, Erin admitted, “Really well, actually.”