Ski moved to the floor-to-ceiling windows that covered two walls, and pulled back the thick, light-blocking curtains. The sunlight poured in, but it didn’t lessen the netherworld strength all Carrion had.
He pressed his hand against the glass. UV protection. “Bear! Break it!”
Bear, a former college linebacker during his Stanford days, lowered his shoulder and charged the window that led out onto a balcony. The first hit cracked it. He backed up and charged again, and the window shattered. Unfiltered sunlight poured in and the power of it allowed Engstrom to push away the Carrion who’d been on top of him. But where he’d been touched by the Carrion, his flesh appeared decayed.
Ski started to go over to help him, but he was tackled out onto the balcony. He gripped the Carrion by the neck and flipped him over. He rolled with him so he ended up on top and planted his foot against his chest, pinning him to the ground.
“Eriksen!” Ski looked up in time to snatch the Hel’s blade tossed to him by a Raven.
Protectors didn’t use weapons . . . but he knew of nothing else that could kill a Carrion.
With a twist of his wrist, he spun the blade around, grasped the grip with both hands, raised it high, and brought it down hard. He aimed right at the Carrion’s head, slamming the blade between the eyes.
Ski twisted the blade around to make sure he’d ended the beast, but when he stood, he heard Engstrom yell out, “Eriksen, move!”
Ski looked up in time to see the remainder of the Carrion charging toward him. Before he could dash out of the way, they plowed into him like semis, forcing him into and over the balcony gate. As he tumbled backward, about to unleash his wings, a piece of the gate slammed into his head and—
Vig watched the Protector’s head collide with that thick metal gate and knew he was out cold, free-falling from the twenty-third-story building. A fall even a Raven wouldn’t survive without his wings, much less a much weaker Protector.
Growling—he really hated the Protectors—Vig dove off the edge of the balcony and directly at Eriksen. He caught him in both arms and held him close, unleashing his wings and letting the wind lift him up until he could fly back to Brianna’s apartment.
Although now he was pretty sure that they were no longer dealing with Betty’s poor, beleaguered assistant but Gullveig herself who wore Brianna’s skin the way Vig’s ancestors used to wear bear fur during brutal Swedish winters.
He landed on the balcony and immediately retracted his wings before heading inside the apartment.
“You unleashed your wings during the day,” Siggy reminded him.
“I know. I think Odin will forgive that, considering the situation.”
“Even though it was a Protector you saved?”
“Hey!” Bear snapped, shoving Siggy by the shoulder. “Shut up.”
“What about the Carrion?” Stieg asked.
“They’re gone. Hit the ground and took off running. And we need to get out of here. That balcony gate dropped onto some dude’s Bugatti and, trust me, he’s going to be up here in a few minutes wanting someone to pay for it. And the mood I’m in, I’m liable to beat him to death. Let’s avoid that. Kera will just get mad.”
They were singing a hymn that Yardley faintly remembered from her Protestant upbringing. All of them facing the—not surprisingly—closed casket of her director.
No matter what she’d felt about the man as a filmmaker, she couldn’t deny that his family had loved him. Had she caused this? She hated to think she might have. She never would have said anything if she’d thought for a second that Brianna was actually Gullveig and would take her words so seriously.
Yardley was a Crow, not a monster.
Even when she was dealing with the worst scum on any plane of existence, she didn’t fool around with torture or stringing out deaths. She and her team went in, did the job, and got out. That was how most of the Crows operated.
As Yardley sang, she felt her sister-Crows’ eyes on her. She glanced over her shoulder. The signal to “get out” was more than clear.
With the hymnbook still in her hand, Yardley simply turned and walked out of the pew, never looking back. She handed off the book to one of the church workers near the doors and walked outside, her team surrounding her.
“What’s going on?” she asked as paparazzi begged her to turn toward them, to pose . . . at a funeral.
“It’s bad. The All-Clan meeting’s been moved up to tonight. Chloe wants you there with Tessa’s team. And Jace’s Protector got hurt.”
“Eriksen?”
“Yeah.”
“Fuck.” One of her team opened the limo door for her. She was just stepping in when someone grasped her arm.
She turned, ready to punch the crap out of some paparazzo that she’d have to pay off later when the complaint went to court, but it was Brianna.
The woman’s fingers were tight on Yardley’s bare arm, her gold rings digging into her skin.
“Where you going, hon?” Brianna asked, all fake Hollywood smiles for the ever-watching cameras.
“Don’t feel really well. Gotta get out of here. We’ll talk later, okay?”
One of Yardley’s team gently tried to separate the two, but Brianna caught hold of two fingers and snapped them back quickly, not only breaking them but leaving them awkwardly bent, so that if it had been anyone but a Crow, the screaming would have had the nearby police there in seconds.
Yardley’s sister-Crow, however, simply whimpered and took a step back so that she could attempt to bend her fingers into place while another sister quickly replaced her.
“Now listen to me, slave,” Gullveig said, “if you get in my way, even your precious Skuld won’t be able to save any of you. When I’m done, you’ll be begging me to end your lives. So take it as a warning to all Crows, Ravens, and the other worthless human Clans. Don’t fuck with me.” She took a step back and announced so the paparazzi could hear, “It was so good seeing you, sweetie. I’ll call you later to check in, okay? Now, you go home and get some rest. Love you!”
Then the bitch winked and walked back to the church in her fifteen-hundred-dollar heels.
The Crows got into the limo and slammed the door. Once they’d pulled out into traffic, Yardley’s sister released the cry of pain she’d been holding in.
“Hospital?” one sister asked.
“No,” Yardley immediately replied. “Let’s get her home.” She pulled her wounded sister close and held her tight while another sister grabbed those two brutalized fingers and readied herself to put them back into place as a bottle of forty-year-old Scotch was passed around—especially to the “patient.”
“Because,” Yardley said softly, desperately trying not to hear the sound of bones being snapped back and the subsequent screams of her sister-Crow, “this is really bad.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Ski jerked awake, body still ready to fight, but soft hands pressed against his shoulders, and softer lips kissed his forehead.
“Shhh. You’re safe.”
Knowing it was Jace, he pulled her close, ready to defend her even though his head hurt and he hadn’t opened his eyes yet.
“Oh!” she gasped, laughing a little. “Don’t worry. We’re both fine. No need to protect me.”
She pulled away and Ski turned toward the voice, blinking, trying to get his eyes to adjust without his glasses. They overcompensated, bringing Jace’s image in so close it was like she was right on top of him. He blinked again, but now it was like she was halfway across the room. Ski knew it was because his head hurt. He had the makings of a solid migraine and that always made it tough to quickly adjust his eyesight so that he could see like a human and not someone blessed by a god. But with his brain hurting, it was simply too much work.
Thankfully, Jace put his glasses on his face and he could see her just fine. At least his eyes could move . . . unlike the actual owls Protectors had been based upon. That’s why their heads turned so far. Because their eyes didn’t move at all. And th
at’s how the Protectors had started out, too. But that made them more vulnerable to attacks by Crows and Ravens, so Tyr eventually fixed the issue . . .
Oh, gods. He was thinking too much. When his brain hurt, it overcompensated by thinking more than usual. It analyzed, debated, constructed . . . anything and everything the brain could do to work through pain.
Like right this second, he was wondering how the ancient Protectors had managed before glasses were invented. Something he really shouldn’t be worrying about.
Jace carefully adjusted the frames of his glasses behind his ears and smiled down at him. “Better?”
“Much. Thank you.”
She brushed the hair off his forehead. “Are you all right?”
“I have a headache. I dealt with the Carrions well enough . . . didn’t see that gate, though, until it collided with my head. To be honest, considering the speed I was going, I’m lucky the damn thing didn’t take my head clean off. For instance, if you take the square root of—”
“Okay,” Jace cut in. “Let’s not square-root anything. Not much of a math girl. It’s not my thing. I like words. Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I can’t stop thinking. Analyzing. My head really hurts. My brain does that when it hurts.”
“I’m not surprised it hurts.” She winced in empathy. “You have such a knot.”
“I’ll be fine. I just need to stop thinking.”
“Yeah, I’ve tried that . . . it’s impossible for some of us. But good luck!”
That almost made him laugh. “Help me sit up?”
She placed her hand against his back and Ski sat up, legs over the side of the bed, his feet slapping against the floor. He was still dressed, boots and all.
Did it take a long time to make boots? Probably not now, what with all the children in factories putting together the pieces. Child labor . . . morally reprehensible and yet, it was still happening. He should do something about that . . .
“You’re doing it again,” she warned.
“How can you tell?”
“Because you’re staring at me, but I can tell you don’t see me. It’s like I’m sheer glass. It’s strange.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. My ex used to accuse me of the same thing.” She gave a short chuckle. “Of course, that was because it was easier to pretend he wasn’t there or I was somewhere else.”
Ski nodded, focusing on the sound of her voice and innocuous rambling. It gave his brain something to concentrate on rather than all the millions of random thoughts in his head at the moment.
He noticed for the first time the bandages on Jace’s throat and arms. “What happened?”
Jace shrugged. “Decay and death.”
In no mood to ease his way around this conversation the way he usually could, he just asked, “What?”
“I went into a rage.” He could tell that. Her eyes were puffy from crying. “Attacked one of the Carrion. His skin touched mine . . . and now I’m permanently disfigured.”
Ski put his hands to his forehead. His head hurt. He hadn’t had a headache like this since he was rammed into a wall by a Giant Killer when he was eighteen. “No, you’re not.”
“I’m not?”
Ski just reached over and, without looking at her, yanked off one of the bandages.
“Ow!”
“Sorry.”
“Hey.” Jace scrambled off the bed and went to her dresser mirror. She grinned when she saw her skin back to normal. She removed the other bandages. “Oh, thank God,” she finally said. “I don’t want to sound vain—”
“You’re not vain.”
“—but I was worried my skin was going to stay like that. Like part of me was rotting off.”
“If you hold on to the Carrions for too long, you’ll rot to death. Until there’s nothing but bones and dead flesh left for scavenger animals to prey upon.”
When Ski’s response led to nothing but silence, he looked up to see Jace gawking at him, eyes wide, hands still pressed against her skin.
“Sorry. When my head hurts, I’m like every other Protector you’ve met.”
“Tessa might have something for you.”
“Good. I’m assuming the All-Clan meeting has been moved up.”
“It’s tonight. In two hours.”
“I need to be there.”
“Okay.” She came back to the bed and knelt beside him on the mattress. “There’s just one thing, though . . .”
Ski stared at her, waiting for her to tell him what that “just one thing” was. But the longer they looked into each other’s eyes, the worse he began to feel.
Finally, realizing what she was asking of him, he barked, “No!”
“He saved your life.”
“I don’t care!”
“Please. For me.”
“No. Absolutely not. Just so we’re clear here, Jacinda, your pussy’s not worth all that suffering.”
Instead of being insulted, she leaned in closer, gaze locked on him, until he had to admit, “All right, it is! But this isn’t fair!”
“For me. Please.”
“My head hurts.”
“For me.”
He couldn’t fight her. He wanted to. He wanted to get up and walk out and never see her again. But he knew that wouldn’t happen. He was in too deep.
“Fine.”
Grinning, she grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet and out into the hallway.
“Kera!”
Kera came out of another room, dragging an unhappy Vig Rundstöm behind her.
The two Crows pushed the men together until they faced each other, barely inches apart, neither man willing to look at the other.
By Tyr’s missing hand, how had Ski gotten into this?
“Well?” Jace pushed.
“Well what?”
“For me. Please.”
“Stop saying that!” Ski let out a very angry but resigned breath. He looked directly at Rundstöm and snarled, “Thank you for saving my life.”
The Raven stared at Ski a moment before bellowing, “Now you owe your soul to me!”
“Ludvig Rundstöm!” Kera yelled before Ski could punch the bastard in the face. “You promised!”
“He does owe his soul to me. It’s a blood oath!”
“So you’re telling your half-black girlfriend that you’re into slavery?”
“No. Of course not.”
“Then do it right,” she bit out between clenched teeth.
It took the Raven a moment, lips in a tight line, unwilling to open to say the next words. But he finally relented under the withering glare of his girlfriend. “You’re welcome.”
“See?” Kera asked. “That wasn’t so hard, now, was it?”
“It’s not the way of our people!”
“Times change!” she bellowed back. “You’re also not allowed to drag me off by my hair and call me your property! It’s called progress, Viking!”
The All-Clan meeting took place in a cavern underneath Catalina Island. There were many underwater caves and caverns on Catalina but this one was hidden from non-Clan eyes.
And All-Clan meetings were the only time the Crows didn’t have to worry about sea travel. The Claws of Ran would not send the seagulls to attack the Crows so they could be dragged to the ocean floor to drown when they fell from the skies.
Not that any of that kept the Crows from enjoying the ocean when they wanted to, but they did all go into it knowing it might end up a fight to the death.
Once they reached the cave entrance, they walked for about a half hour until they entered the cavern. A circular space with nine sections that jutted out of the rock in rows, creating stone benches. In the center of the nine sections was an empty space. Before each section was the god’s rune that represented a particular Clan, and in the center of the room was a circle of all the runes, pulsating with protective power.
The whole cavern reminded Jace of the Coliseum except that no bloodshed was allowed. This wa
s a place of safety and quiet, thoughtful discussion . . .
Kera turned to her. “What’s so funny?” she asked, loud enough to be heard over the yelling.
“Just amusing myself.”
“So I’m not wrong.” Kera threw up her hands. “This is ridiculous!”
No, Kera was not wrong. This was all very ridiculous. The Nine Clans of Southern California had literally only been in here for about twelve minutes, but as soon as Josef saw Chloe, the fight was on, and everyone else just happened to join in.
It was funny to watch, too. At least for her. Each Clan stayed in its designated area, behind the correct runes, while they pointed and yelled at each other.
Every once in a while, Jace would look over at Ski and they’d smile at each other. She knew he wouldn’t intervene until everything calmed down; then he’d negotiate.
Until then, they sat back and watched the Silent loudly argue with the Isa, who gestured inappropriately at Holde’s Maids, who threatened hexes on the Claws of Ran, who spit seawater at the Giant Killers, who sexually harassed the Valkyries, who told the Ravens to kill the Killers, and the Ravens agreed because anything was better than listening to Josef fight with Chloe while the Crows told the Silent that the Isa were planning to kill them.
Jace didn’t go to many All-Clan meetings. Not since one of the Killers pushed her out of the way and she tore his ear off, then burst into tears. But Chloe wanted all those involved in today’s nightmare at this meeting.
Still, everything was manageable and typical of an All-Clan meeting—until the Carrion were mentioned. That’s when everything sort of fell apart. Mostly because no one knew what to do.
The Carrion had never been part of the Nine and they were rarely on this plane of existence. It was said that once one went to Helheim, Helheim was where one stayed. There was no getting out unless Hel released you, and she didn’t release anybody. Even Odin himself couldn’t force her to do anything she didn’t want, including release the god Baldur, whom the other gods had loved so dearly.
She was, perhaps, the most powerful of the Aesir gods, which was why the idea of Gullveig joining forces with her was definitely terrifying.
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