Chapter Thirty

This couldn’t go on.

Laila stepped away from Trace, tightening her grip on the two swords as the demon advanced on them. His eyeless sockets oozed a black liquid, making it seem like he was crying. The jaw hung down, showing rotted and chipped teeth.

The draugr swung the massive sword at her first, the keen blade slicing through the air.

With a sinking feeling, she realized she’d underestimated his speed—the size of the man should have made him slower and clumsier, but an undead warrior…

The sword cut deep into her left arm, forcing her to drop one of her swords as she spun away from the attack. It clattered across the concrete and slipped into the pool—sinking underwater and permanently out of reach.

She ran along the edge of the pool, placing the draugr between her and Trace. A handful of towels lay nearby.

“Hey!” Trace shouted, drawing the fighter’s attention. “Leave her alone. You’re here for this.” He stabbed the air with the spear point. “Come and get it.”

The undead monster’s blank eye sockets studied the lance. He turned away from Laila, now focused on the new target.

She snatched up a towel and wrapped it around her arm, stanching the blood flow for the time being.

“Laila!” Trace shouted. “Go inside and grab Blanco. Now that he sees he’s not getting his deal—he might be willing to work with us.” He sidestepped the draugr’s sword strike, parrying it and stabbing the creature’s arm in reply, the spear point slicing deep through the rotting flesh. “We can’t keep taking these things on one by one. The Wolf’s only screwing with us right now—as soon as he gets tired, he’ll send a swarm of these things at us, and we’ll be fucked.” He yanked the weapon free, sending jagged hunks of gray muscle flying.

Laila held back her words, seeing the incoming storm.

There was now more at risk here than just a spear—the revelation of Trace’s bloodline would make him a welcome addition to the Wolf’s army. If he died in battle with one of the evil undead, the Wolf might be able to take him, use him as a right-hand man at Ragnarök.

She could not let that happen, no matter what.

Leaving Trace behind, she sprinted for the house, gripping the lone sword in her right hand.

The troll’s body had vanished, returning through the portal to the darkness –to the Wolf’s side. But the damage done was still there—the henchmen still lay where they’d fallen, either from Trace’s bullets, from her own attacks, or from the troll and the pair of draugrs.

She stepped over the bodies and headed for the corner of the room where the older Blanco lay in his hospital bed, wheezing as he tugged at the small tubes in his nose. The panicked look on his face seemed more immediate, not about the monsters rampaging around his home or the threat of imminent death and destruction.

There was no sign of his grandson or his attendants.

His eyes narrowed upon seeing her, a mixture of hate and fear as she advanced on his bed. He pulled again at the narrow tube on his lap, his attention darting away from her as he let out a pained wheeze.

Laila spotted the problem immediately—in the fight, something had sliced the oxygen hose leading from the tank, letting the air bleed out.

She knelt, placing the sword on the floor as she searched the tray mounted under the hospital bed, coming up with a roll of tape that she used to seal the hose.

“I may not like you, but your fate will not be decided by my lack of action,” she murmured as she ripped the edge of the tape. “Freyja have mercy on your soul because I sure as hell wouldn’t.”

Jacob Blanco let out a wheeze as he settled back on the thin mattress, taking deep breaths of the restored oxygen.

“Now, old man, tell me what can be done to seal that.” She pointed at the dark portal, set at the far end of the room. The edges swirled and danced, small sparks of lightening shooting out from the slowly revolving hole.

His eyes narrowed as he shook his head, lips pressed into a thin tight line.

“Look.” She leaned in, unable and unwilling to hide her anger. “Your grandson made a bad deal. Ragnarök doesn’t end with you and your family ruling the world. It ends with everyone and everything perishing in fire and fury.”

He smiled, the grin giving him even more of a ghoulish expression than before. “It’s…worth…it…” His gaze flashed over her right shoulder, signaling trouble.

Laila ducked and snatched up her sword before spinning away, seconds before a wooden bar slammed down on the end of the bed, missing her by inches. She found herself caught between the hospital bed and the black portal, a dangerous spot.

Daniel Blanco snarled as he raised the broken table leg with his left hand, the retrieved pistol safe in his right.

“What did you do to Dyson?” he demanded. “Why did that little shit make it work?”

“That ‘little shit,’ as you just called him, is of royal blood.” She leveled the sword at him as she eyed the pistol, planning her next move. “He’s one of Odin’s children. That’s why he could use the spear.”

The gun wavered in the drug lord’s grip. “What? Who?” His forehead furrowed. “Dyson? How the hell?”

An inhuman roar went up from outside the room.

A hot wind rushed by them, carrying black dust as the draugr returned to the hell from which it’d been sent. She pulled back as the portal swallowed up the remains and began to rotate even faster, an ominous signal.

She let out her breath, acutely aware of Blanco’s advantage over her. The pistol stayed leveled at her chest, but she saw the fear in the man’s eyes, the confusion around him sowing doubt in his mind.

“Fuck,” he cursed. “I didn’t think…” He glanced at his grandfather. “For you, Abu—I did it all for you. That’s got to count for something, right?”

“The Fenris Wolf always lies, always takes advantage of men’s passions, their wants and needs,” Laila said. She kept her voice low and steady despite the growing panic twisting her stomach into knots. “Making a deal with him was not a wise move.”

There was no sign of Trace.

Blanco sneered. “Who are you to talk? You made a deal to get where you are. Making it with Freyja or the Wolf, what’s the difference?” He gestured at her with the broken piece of wood. “How many years did you add to your life as a Valkyrie, snatching bodies off the battlefield? Whoever you were before you got your wings, were you better than me, my father?” His eyes narrowed.

“Let’s be honest. If the Wolf offered you a deal to save Trace, you’d take it in an instant, in a moment. You’d toss all of Valhalla into that black hole to save his life—so don’t preach to me about how righteous you are.” He stared at his grandfather. “We’ll do anything for the ones we love.”

Before she could answer, the entire house shook, the remaining pictures falling off the walls before the small earthquake subsided.

“Laila! We’ve got to…” Trace ran into the room, still brandishing the spear. He skidded to a stop upon seeing the trio.

She held back a sigh of relief at seeing him alive and well.

Trace glared at Blanco. “The storm’s about to come ashore—there are sharks and squids and something large and ugly leading the way, tentacles waving. We might not be on the beach, but those monsters can surf a giant wave right through our front door here.” He aimed the spear at the drug kingpin, staring down the length of the weapon. “It’s over, Blanco. Call him off, end this. No one else needs to get hurt or die.”

The pistol switched targets, now pointing at Trace’s chest. The accompanying sneer ground against Laila’s nerves like jagged glass.

“No. I promised the Wolf the spear, and I’ll give it to him. And now I can toss in one of Odin’s bastards and a Valkyrie to sweeten the deal.” He laughed. “I wonder what he can do with you two, hmm?”

A rumbling filled the room, the tremors under their feet increasing with every second.

Blanco grinned. “Toss the spear into the portal, or I’ll shoot her.” The pistol swerved back to her. “Do it right now.”

“This spear is the only thing that can kill the creatures coming out of that portal,” Trace snapped. “And there’s about to be a shitload of monsters coming ashore.”

“I’ve got nothing to fear.” Blanco looked down the barrel of the pistol, sighting in on her chest. “How about you?”

She sensed the darkness creeping toward them, the storm breaking overhead with double the intensity of any earthly weather system. Nausea burned her throat as she pointed the sword at Blanco, the standoff complete among the three of them.

Trace’s gaze darted back and forth, and she saw him weighing the options.

“Don’t you want to live? Don’t you want her to live? Don’t you love her?” Blanco’s voice cracked, the uncertainty of his position bleeding through. “My God, man…your fate lies in your hands. All you need to do is give him the spear, and you can have anything you want. Don’t you understand?”

“I do.” Trace looked over at her, a sad smile on his face. “But if you followed my father and my grandfather through the years, you’d know there’s one hard truth they taught me.”

Laila held her breath as he took a step back, swinging the lance away from Blanco.

“No…” she whispered.

He put both hands on the spear, one just behind the sharp point and one down toward the end of the weapon.

Blanco narrowed his gaze, the senior behind him nodding emphatically as Trace tightened his grip on the weapon. His aim stayed true, focused on her as Trace turned and looked at the shadow portal.

“Fate loves the fearless.”

She frowned, not understanding his whisper.

An angry roar echoed down the portal, and a massive wolf’s paw stepped through, the sharp claws digging deep into the carpet.

Jacob Blanco clutched at his heart, fingers digging into the thin hospital gown as the portal began to expand. A chunk of ceiling fell nearby as it grew in size, the sky overhead coming into view, dark and foreboding. The paw moved forward, stepping further into the living room as the leg followed, the circle widening with every second.

Trace raised the spear in both hands, aiming the point at the giant paw. But instead of tossing it in the portal or throwing it at the Wolf, he brought the rod down hard on his leg, snapping the lance in two.

An invisible force punched her in the chest, stealing the air from her lungs as Trace tossed the two pieces in opposite directions. The metal rods skittered along the floor before disappearing into the rubble, sliding under broken tables and shattered lamps.

She sank to her knees, seeing the impossible made possible yet one more time.

“You…” Blanco fought to find the words. “How could you…”

“My father told me you could do anything if you put your mind to it.” Trace said as he turned to face Blanco. “Other than a Valkyrie, only someone with Odin’s bloodline could use the weapon.” He gave the drug lord a sly grin. “Figured it’d take one to break it.”

Blanco’s face went red.

Laila sensed the darkness receding, the thick air around them turning lighter, thinner.

The Wolf let out an enraged roar, the walls shaking with the howl.

“No,” Blanco yelled, turning to look at the animal. He spun back, his body shaking with rage. “I may not be able to give him the spear, but I can give him you!”

His finger tightened on the trigger.