The Undoing

by Shelly Laurenston

  “No. I’m not dancing naked. There will be no blood. I’m not kneeling anymore. I’m not singing any more goddamn Zeppelin songs. I’m not getting hit any more with sticks.”

  “That was Odin’s staff.”

  “Shut up!”

  Erin grabbed Kera’s arm. “Calm down.”

  “Let go of me.”

  “Would you stop?”

  “Let go of me.”

  “Let’s just go outside and—”

  “You want to go outside?” Kera asked, finally snapping. She turned and grabbed hold of Erin by the throat. “Be my guest, sister-Crow!”

  Using Erin like a shotput, Kera threw the smaller woman at the back door, the force taking the whole thing down.

  Kera cracked her knuckles and followed. She reached down and again grabbed Erin by the throat, lifting her up until Erin’s feet didn’t even touch the ground. Jace raced outside and grabbed her friends, desperately trying to separate them.

  “Kera, let her go!”

  “Just let me snap her neck, Jace. Or choke the life out of her. Just let me choke the life out of her!”

  Realizing Kera was too angry to see anything but the one irritant in front of her—namely Erin—Jace grabbed Kera by the hair and snatched her back and around until she was forced to drop Erin.

  “Ow, Jace! Get off me!”

  Jace swung Kera around again, forcing her not to look, but to see.

  Three hundred Crows from around the States, Europe, and Africa gazed at the “new girl.”

  Kera froze, mouth open.

  Chloe—who’d told Kera she wasn’t coming to the ritual “out of principle, nun-lover”—stood in front of the crowd of women who were all dressed in black, their wings out and proud.

  Chloe grinned at Kera, her arms crossed over her chest. “Ni-iiiiice,” she purred, staring at Erin.

  Gasping and coughing, Erin got to her feet. “Welcome to the Crows,” she finally wheezed out.

  “I don’t . . . what . . . I can’t . . . what’s happening?”

  “This is your party,” Jace explained. “Your real party.”

  “Surprise!” Yardley called out, but when Kera’s dark eyes locked on her, she stepped back into the crowd of wings and designer black clothes, attempting to hide.

  Kera rounded on Erin. “This whole thing was a prank?”

  Erin’s chuckle was shockingly oblivious. Even for her. “Pretty good, right?” she asked, her grin revealing how proud of herself she was. “Like I’d ever give you a shitty party.”

  “Why would you . . . what purpose . . . why can’t you . . .”

  Erin shrugged. “Is it my fault you’re so fucking gullible?”

  Kera’s head dipped down—Alessandra called it “Kera’s angry bull look”—and Jace tried to grab her, but Kera caught hold of Erin first, lifting the redhead off her feet, unleashed her wings, and took off, flying higher and higher until they could barely see either of them.

  Jace went to follow, but Annalisa put her arm around her shoulders and held her in place.

  “Let Kera handle this.”

  “But—”

  “No. It’s something she needs to do.”

  “I don’t know why you’re getting so mad!” Erin argued from far up in the night sky. “I was just kidding! Don’t you know how to take a joke?”

  “This has been a long time coming,” Annalisa added.

  “You’re being unreasonable! I don’t know why you’re acting like—hey! Hey, hey! Wait! Shittttttttttt!”

  They heard a splash that suggested Erin had gone headfirst into their Olympic-size pool, meaning Kera had used her new gods-given strength to throw Erin down rather than merely dropping her and letting her wings save her.

  A few seconds later, Kera landed, brushing off her hands. “Now . . . where were we?”

  “See?” Annalisa said to Jace. “They just needed to work their shit out.”

  Chloe motioned to Rachel.

  “Music!” Rachel called out and the DJ rolled some tech because Erin had found out that was Kera’s favorite dance music.

  “Feel better?” Jace asked Kera.

  Her smile was small, but there. “A little.”

  “Well, then.” Jace hugged her. “Welcome to the family, Kera.”

  Ski stood beside his brothers in front of the Bird House, their heads tilting so far over they were nearly upside down as they gazed up at the seven-foot man staring down at a clipboard.

  “Your names aga—” His eyes widened at the sight of the Protectors. “What’s going on with your necks? What are they doing with their necks?” he suddenly called out.

  One of the Crows quickly stepped up, smiling at Ski. “Don’t worry. That’s normal for them.”

  “Freaks,” the man muttered, again looking at his clipboard.

  “Alessandra said to be nice to our guests. So be nice.” The Crow gestured to Ski and his brothers. “Untwist your necks, guys. You’re freaking the freaks out.”

  “I’m not a freak. I’m a grizzly.”

  The Crow giggled. “I like how you say that as if it’s supposed to be normal or something.” She gestured at the door. “Why don’t you guys go in? The party’s already at full swing.”

  But before Ski and his brothers could step inside, the Ravens appeared beside them.

  In fact, it seemed as if all the Ravens were there.

  “Name?” the large man asked.

  “Ludvig Rundstöm.”

  The grizzly gestured with a jerk of his head. “Go.”

  Rundstöm stepped between the grizzly and the Crows and went inside. The rest of the Ravens attempted to follow but the man threw up his big hand. “Name?”

  “Stieg Engstrom.”

  The grizzly quickly flipped through the many pages of names, then said, “Nope.”

  “What do you mean ‘nope’?”

  “I don’t know how much clearer ‘nope’ can be.”

  “What about Rolf Landvik?”

  “Nope.”

  “Wait,” Siggy Kaspersen cut in. “Are you saying the rest of us Ravens weren’t invited to the party?”

  Ski watched Gundo physically recoil from that sentence structure.

  The grizzly shrugged. “If you’re not on the list . . .”

  “Vig was invited,” the Crow pointed out. “Not you.”

  “But we’re his brothers.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” the Crow replied, expression earnest. “But tragically we don’t care.” She pointed at Ski. “You and the Protectors can go in, though.”

  “But,” Ski said, “I was so enjoying . . .” He turned to stare at Engstrom and finished, “the burn.”

  Engstrom was reaching for Ski when the grizzly stuck his big arm between them. “No fighting, freaks.” He motioned to the other security members. “We’re not afraid to maul. And we already have permission if things get out of hand.”

  “I’m sorry,” Bear said, staring at the bigger man before him. “I’m confused by you people.”

  Ski and Gundo winced in each other’s direction because the man they were talking to was African American.

  The shifter’s eyes narrowed. “You people?”

  “Yes,” Bear went on, oblivious. “Are you genetically a bear? Or just mystically?”

  “What?”

  “I was wondering that, too,” Haldor pushed. “Is your DNA strain different from other humans? I mean, we’re enhanced mystically, but genetically we’re no different from anyone else. But I’ve heard that you people test differently.”

  Borgsten, who dabbled in science on the side, leaned in. “You do? In what way?”

  “I heard they can’t involve themselves in anything that might lead to blood testing of any kind, like the Olympics, or professional sports.”

  “That must be disappointing for you,” Gundo noted. “Since you could win all the Olympics all the time. Are you angry about that? Do you have a form of grizzly rage? They are a very aggressive animal. Are you aggressive like that?”
>
  Haldor nodded and asked, “And are your children born furry?”

  Kera received really warm hugs from Crows out of the Philippines, and promises in Tagalog to get together for dinner soon.

  The Philippine sister-Crows walked away and Kera realized she didn’t remember their names. She didn’t remember anyone’s name. There were so many people here! Crow reps from all over the world. All here to see her.

  And to drink.

  Kera knew these ladies were also here to drink. Heavily.

  Someone tapped her shoulder, and Kera took a breath, ready to meet someone else whose name she’d never remember. But to her relief, standing behind her was Vig.

  She threw her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tight. “I’m so glad you’re here!”

  “You knew I wouldn’t miss it.” He kissed her, his hands tight on her waist. “How has it been going?” he asked when he finally pulled back.

  “I dropped Erin in the pool.”

  “Well . . . that doesn’t really surprise me.”

  “Did you know about this? About the party fake-out?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you didn’t tell me?”

  “You didn’t ask.”

  Kera stepped back. “I have to ask you if someone’s faking me out?”

  “Only if it’s another Crow. I’m not getting between you and the Crows. That way only leads to death. Or, at the very least, harsh, harsh criticism.”

  With a sigh, Kera turned in time to see her dog bopping through the dancing crowd. Wings out, Lev on her back. Everyone greeted Brodie. It was like they all knew her. Even people she’d absolutely never seen before.

  “I think everyone likes my dog better than me.”

  Vig put his arms around Kera from behind, his chin resting on the top of her head. “Yeah, they do.”

  Erin came up to them. She’d changed into dry clothes—black denim shorts, black racer-back tee, and black flip-flops—and her wet hair was in two short ponytails. She had a Long Island iced tea in one hand and a mini-pizza in the other. Smiling, she moved to the music.

  “So?” Erin asked. “What do you think of your party?”

  Kera tried to make another grab for her, but Vig wouldn’t release her.

  “If you’re hoping that she’s even thinking about what happened an hour ago,” he whispered against Kera’s ear, “you’ll be very disappointed.”

  “I dropped her into the pool from, like, three hundred feet in the air.”

  “She just doesn’t care.”

  Kera wasn’t sure she believed him until she watched Erin for a good minute.

  The redhead raised her glass in the air, greeting the Japanese Crows walking by. Then she snapped her fingers at one of the waiters and took several of the hors d’oeuvres from the silver platter since the mini-pizza was long gone.

  “This is Kobe beef,” Erin explained before shoving one in her mouth. “Yummy!”

  “Oh my God,” Kera whispered to Vig. “She really doesn’t.”

  “Erin never holds grudges. Not the way you and I hold grudges, I mean.”

  “I threw her through a door.”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  The Los Angeles Valkyries walked into the backyard. They didn’t wear much. Mostly bikinis or very tiny shorts and T-shirts. But it was all silver. And headbands with wings. The leader threw her arms in the air and screeched out, “Valkyries in the house, bitches!”

  “You invited the Valkyries?” Kera asked Erin.

  “No, but they come anyway.”

  “I thought we had security.”

  “My sister’s a Valkyrie,” Vig reminded them.

  “We do have security,” Erin went on, ignoring Vig. “But our security is made up of shifters, which means that like all wild animals, they are slaves to their basest instincts.” She gestured to the now-dancing Valkyries. “So, yeah, who’s going to stop the whores from coming into the party?”

  “Again,” Vig said, “my sister.”

  Kera glanced around. “Where’s the guys?” she asked Vig and when he stared at her, “Your Raven brothers?”

  “Outside.”

  “Yeah.” Erin held up her empty glass, gesturing at one of the waitresses for more alcohol. “They have been denied access.”

  “Why? I like the guys.”

  “Yeahhhh, but this really irritates them, which amuses me, soooooo, yeahhhhhh—”

  Kera shook her head. “What is wrong with you?”

  Annalisa suddenly appeared beside them, as if she’d been waiting for just such an opening. “You know, many have asked me that about Erin. And you’d think she must have some kind of personality disorder. But surprisingly . . . she doesn’t. Erin is just kind of a dick.”

  Erin gratefully took the fresh Long Island iced tea and, grinning, nodded her head in agreement.

  Jace perched in the trees overlooking the party. Birds surrounded her on all sides, the crows and ravens keeping her company as she watched her sisters dance, laugh, and have a good time.

  She wished she could say she was unhappy being up here. She wished she could regret not feeling comfortable enough to be part of the action.

  But that would be a lie.

  Jace was so very comfortable right now, being a part of and apart from everything. She used to dream about living this way in those days when she was the Great Prophet’s wife. Those days when she had to be right by her husband’s side, smiling, shaking hands, holding conversations with idiots not smart enough to realize they were being used and manipulated. Being part of everything. Fully involved.

  Gods, how she always hated it so.

  But when Jace had become a Crow, during her own welcome party she’d gone to the trees and the Crows hadn’t said a word. They’d noticed. They’d cared. But when they realized Jace was more comfortable observing rather than participating, they’d backed off and left her to her own devices. Then such a show they’d given her, filled with fights and laughter and rude pranks directed at each other and the visiting Clans. They’d made sure that Jace had something fun to watch.

  Her party had been amazing.

  Kera’s was turning out to be even better.

  The birds surrounding Jace suddenly took flight in a large panic of wings. When they settled back down, they were all on Jace’s left, staring.

  Jace looked to her right to see what had her friends so concerned.

  Ski and the Protectors were now perched beside her. Some had plates of food. Others had drinks. After a few minutes, they politely switched with each other. They were sharing.

  It was so civilized. Not what she was used to at all. A fight over bread sticks broke out among the Ravens once at an Olive Garden. That’s what Jace was used to.

  Ski smiled at her. Gods in the heavens, he was just so damn handsome.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he said. “The guys were harassing the shifters.”

  “We weren’t harassing,” Gundo argued. “We were just asking questions.”

  “But they certainly are sensitive for wild beasts,” Haldor said between bites of Kobe beef and chicken wings.

  Jace winced. “You didn’t call them that to their faces, did you?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  “Of course not,” Ski repeated. “They just called them wild animals and freaks.”

  “In our defense, Jacinda,” Haldor added, “they did call us freaks first.”

  Jace didn’t bother to argue and instead pointed out, “You guys don’t have to sit up here with me, you know. You’re more than welcome down there with everyone else.”

  The Protectors suddenly looked uncomfortable.

  “Well,” Haldor finally said, “the crowd is so large—”

  “—and the music is so loud—” another Protector chimed in.

  “—and there is so much pushing and shoving—”

  “That’s called dancing,” Ski muttered.

  “—and whoever invited the Giant Killers should have told the men that deodoran
t is not optional but a mandatory accoutrement—”

  “—which is to say—”

  “—we’ll be much happier up here—”

  “—than we would be down there—”

  “—if it’s all right with you, Jacinda,” Haldor finished for them all.

  “It’s absolutely fine with me,” Jace replied, understanding the language of introverts better than any other language she knew. “Whatever you guys want to do. That’s what Crow parties are all about. Within reason, of course. No random murder. Chloe hates that. And no grabbing entire trays of food and going somewhere to sit down and feed . . . everyone else hates that.”

  “Wait.” Bear’s eyes grew bright. “Does that mean we can—”

  “No,” Ski stated firmly. “You can’t harass the shifters.”

  “Questions are not harassment.”

  “That grizzly was moments from tearing your head off. I promised Ormi no one would die tonight.”

  “Actually,” Jace said, “I chatted with one of the bartenders before I came up here—”

  “You chatted?” Ski asked.

  “About global warming.”

  “Of course.”

  “—and she’s a neuroscience major studying for her master’s. She was exceptionally friendly for a shifter, and I’m sure she’d be more than happy to answer your questions as long as you refrain from calling them freaks or wild beasts. Want me to ask?”

  “No,” Ski said.

  “Yes, please!” the others replied.

  Ski waited until Jace flew off before glaring at his brothers.

  “Really?” he asked.

  “We’re curious,” Borgsten replied for them all.

  “Curiosity killed the owl.”

  “No. It killed the cat. The owls flew away.”

  Jace returned. “Whenever you want, stop by the bar. Her name is Wendy. She’s actually an African wild dog . . . and yet,” she went on, obviously fascinated, her wings keeping her aloft in front of them, “not black. Korean American, fifth generation. But she apparently comes from a very long line of African wild dogs.” Her grin was wide. “Fascinating, right?”

  “Fascinating!” his brothers parroted back to her, their grins equally wide.

  They weren’t mocking. They really found that information fascinating.