Bjorn Cursed

by N. J. Walters

  She told them everything.

  Cassie shook her head. “Gods messing with the afterlife is never good. Now that Loki has done it, others will have to try. No matter how much they attempt to suppress it, word will spread through the pantheons, and that will create problems.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Anja asked. She didn’t know Cassie’s story, only that she was with a member of the Brotherhood.

  Her smile was tinged with sadness. “I have lived longer than some of the gods. I know them too well. Like spoiled children, they keep testing their limits.”

  Alive longer than the gods? “I’m sorry.” She shook her head. She must have misheard.

  A wealth of age and knowledge shone from her eyes. As though a veil had been lifted, power slammed into Anja.

  “I’m a reaper. I take the souls of the dead to where they belong.”

  The chair toppled as Anja shoved back. She fell, her butt hitting the floor, but she scrambled back to her feet and drew her knife. “Stay back,” she yelled. “I won’t let you take me.”

  Bjorn burst into the room with Sven right behind him. “What’s going on?” He shoved her behind him. She gripped the waistband of his jeans to steady herself.

  Cassie hadn’t moved, was still sitting quietly at the table. Both Morrigan and Jo touched her, as though to console her. Anja’s stomach churned.

  “I’m a reaper,” Cassie told him. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” She bit her bottom lip and looked away. The big man with the long hair and beard was beside her in a second. He lifted her from her chair and into his arms. His scowl was as dark as the void Anja had been lost in.

  Crap, she’d offended one of the Brotherhood.

  “What is a reaper?” Sven asked. His weapon was in his hand, his entire body alert. She had to defuse the situation.

  “I’m sorry. I may have overreacted.” She tried to push through the two large bodies in front of her, but they weren’t budging. She peered around Bjorn’s side. “I’m sorry, Cassie.”

  The woman closed her eyes and sighed. “No, it’s my fault.” She patted Alexei’s shoulder. “It’s okay. Put me down.”

  “No.” The big man held her closer.

  Cassie slowly smiled and rested her head against his shoulder. “I shouldn’t have blurted out to a woman who was plucked from the afterlife that I collect souls of the dead and take them where they need to be.”

  “Then why did you?” Sven lowered his weapon, more intrigued now than concerned.

  “We were talking about the gods. I mentioned my age. I’m a little old.”

  “You’re perfect,” Alexei assured her. “She’s perfect,” he repeated to the others.

  “She’s perfect for you,” Maccus told him. “We need to decide what our next move is.” He forged forward, as Anja knew was his way.

  “There are others like you, aren’t there?” she asked. “Reapers?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why didn’t Freya go to one, or whoever is in charge, and ask them to get me back?” She never would have seen her husband or her son and was grateful no such powerful creature had come in search of her.

  “Gods do not like to be seen as fallible.” Cassie was matter of fact as she spoke. “They rule their domains and do not like outside interference, for all the games they play with one another. They want to see themselves as all powerful.”

  A loud clap of thunder shook the cabin, jolting all of them. The men cursed, several of the women screamed.

  Every inch of Anja’s skin was electrified, as though a lightning bolt had come close to striking her.

  “Anja Knutson, come and face your judgment.” The disembodied female voice filled the room.

  Freya had come for her.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Calm replaced the icy fear eating at him. Their running was over. As much as he’d do anything to spare Anja this, Bjorn wanted the confrontation behind them. It was better than constantly looking over their shoulders.

  “No matter what happens, I’ll be beside you,” he vowed to his wife. “In this life, the afterlife, and even into the void.” He bent down and brushed a kiss across her lips. “The rest of you need to step back.”

  “Fuck that.” Maccus made his feelings known with as few words as possible. Usually he’d find humor in that. Now it brought only worry.

  “There is no time to make plans, and you all have much to lose.” And he couldn’t live with being responsible for the deaths of his friends or their women.

  “I agree with Bjorn.” Anja took his hand, straightened, and walked toward the door. “You all need to stay safe.” Even with her existence on the line, she was concerned about others. He’d never been prouder of her.

  Sven stepped into their path, blocking the way. “I’ll go first.” His face was impassive, his knuckles white around the handle of his weapon. This was the first time he’d fought when he had something to lose.

  None of them had as much to lose as he did. Resolve filled him. He’d fight in whatever way was necessary to save his family.

  A warrior’s mind was his greatest strength.

  With that reminder, he followed his son out onto the porch and down the two steps to the ground with Anja by his side. Her fingers tightened around his. She was pale but composed. Like him, she was ready to face the inevitable.

  The goddess stood around six-two, her long blond hair pulled back in a braid. Her clothes were modern—faded denim jeans, four-inch black ankle boots, a silk T-shirt that had likely cost more than the jeans, and a short, fitted leather jacket. She removed her sunglasses, revealing golden eyes that snapped with fury.

  “You’ve caused me much trouble, Anja.”

  “It was not my doing, my lady.” Instead of staying by his side, she released his hand and started toward the goddess. He reached out and snagged her arm.

  Freya glanced at his hand where it gripped his wife’s arm and raised her eyebrows. “You sure you want to get involved in this, Odin’s wolf?”

  “Anja is my wife. She was taken from your realm not as a slight to you, but as a strike against me and the Forgotten Brotherhood.” He kept his claws sheathed and his fangs in check. His wolf was a quiet sentinel inside him.

  Maccus and the others joined them, a silent presence of support. At least the men had placed themselves in front of their women. Bjorn was still uneasy having them here. This was not their fight, and they provided another target for Freya’s anger.

  The goddess waved her hand in the air and sneered at them all. “I’ve heard of your little group. You do not concern me.” Maccus was likely pissed at being dismissed so easily. Freya blithefully continued. “A trusted servant leaving my Hall does concern me. Deeply.” She curled her fingers and beckoned to Anja. “Come. We will return home and you will face your judgment.”

  “Don’t you want to know the truth?” Anja asked, her tone resigned, as if she already knew the answer. She took a step away from the group, her way of trying to protect them. He moved with her, unwilling to be away from her side.

  “The why matters not. Only the result.” She tapped her booted foot on the ground. “Grab her,” she told Sven.

  His son shook his head. “No.”

  It was almost comical the way Freya’s eyes widened at the unexpected refusal. Bjorn imagined it was the first time Sven, or any of her followers, had ever declined a direct order.

  She tilted her head to one side, studying her warrior. “Something about you is different.” The corners of her mouth turned down. “You remembered her.”

  “Did you think I would not?”

  She shook her head. “That should not be possible. I will have to reinforce the block on your memories when we return home.”

  “I am home.” Sven stood alongside his mother, leaving no doubt as to where his allegiance lay. “I am with my family.”
>
  “I am your family.” Hard and loud, Freya’s words struck with the force of thunder. The ground shook beneath them.

  Was the goddess jealous? Even as he had the thought, he dismissed it. She’d have to care enough to feel that kind of emotion. It was possessiveness. She deemed Sven hers.

  “You promised me my son would have a chance to live his life.” Even though she had no preternatural abilities, Anja fearlessly faced the goddess. “That was your pledge to me.”

  “And I gave him even more. Look at him.” She pointed a slender finger at Sven. Bjorn tensed, half expecting a bolt of lightning to shoot from it and strike his son down. “He is immortal and strong and feared.”

  “He has been alone, without a family or love, the things that make a life worthwhile,” Anja shot back. “You did not keep your word.”

  All the fine hairs on the back of his neck rose, and his wolf whined. His wife had balls of fucking steel. No, scratch that. They were titanium. Danger danced in the air, tension tightened his muscles until he had to force himself to relax so he could move fast, if necessary.

  The Brotherhood was witness to the events, but it would be tantamount to suicide for them to intervene. They had women to protect. That would be their priority, as it should.

  They were on their own, but it heartened him that someone would bear witness to events, would know the truth. As long as his friends stayed out of this, they should be safe. Freya wouldn’t want to risk problems with the Christian and Egyptian pantheons. He wasn’t quite sure where Alexei and his woman fit.

  “I have killed others for less.” A muscle ticked just under Freya’s eye.

  “It is the truth.” Anja rubbed her hands against her thighs. “I do not mean to slight you.”

  “Do you not?”

  She shook her head. “No. I served faithfully for centuries, toiling in the afterlife with no regrets because my children had a chance at the life they’d been robbed of. I would have continued to serve if I had not been plucked from your domain.”

  “This is tiresome,” Freya began.

  “Do you know what it’s like to not be able to stop your children from being murdered? The burden of guilt I carried that I did not protect them?”

  “Anja,” Bjorn began, but she jerked her hand up, silencing him. He wisely shut his mouth, but stood beside her, ready to defend her in any way possible.

  “I bore each of them in my body for nine months. I loved them from the moment I set eyes on them. They were the best of Bjorn and myself.” A tear tracked down her cheek. She swiped it away. “Whatever you do to me is nothing compared to what I have lived with for all these long years.”

  “You say that now.” Freya drew herself up, seeming to grow before their very eyes. “But the void is a place where spirits wander alone and aimless for eternity with no hope for escape. That is where you are headed.”

  “Not alone. Not this time.” Bjorn caught his wife’s hand and held it tight. “Whatever you do to her, you do to me.”

  Freya’s eyes narrowed and her frown deepened. “I do not understand you. And you are not my concern, you are Odin’s.” She tilted back her head and peered up at the sky. “Odin, get your ass down here. Now!”

  Another flash that blinded him, followed by a loud crash. “You called? How I love the sweet dulcet sound of your voice.” He glanced at the group. “A party? And you didn’t invite me?”

  “Oh, stuff it.” Freya pointed at Bjorn. “Deal with your creature before I end him. I will not allow him to interfere any more than he already has.”

  Odin looked at him with his one good eye, his demeanor going from playful to irritated. “You were to kill the woman, so why is she still alive?”

  “What!” Freya shrieked. “Anja is under my domain, not yours.”

  Odin shrugged. “You allowed her to escape. I am the Allfather. It is my job to protect the balance. And that means keeping the dead where they belong. I sent my loyal wolf to find her and end her.”

  Freya snorted. “He’s not so loyal now, is he?”

  “No, he is not. And he’ll pay for that.” He looked down his nose at Bjorn. “Still arrogant and prideful, I see. I thought I’d cured you of that.”

  His wolf’s hackles rose, but Bjorn resisted shifting.

  Kill her.

  The voice in his head was not his own, but Odin’s. He shook his head, fighting the compulsion. His wolf whined and began to pace inside him.

  I command it.

  Bjorn was sucked back to the day that the world ran red with the blood of his family. The scent seared his nose. Anger burned his lungs with every breath. Fury gave him the strength of ten.

  They must all die. They deserve to die.

  The voice was seductive, stoking the rage burning inside him until it became a living, breathing beast.

  “Bjorn.” He turned his head toward the woman’s voice. It was barely a whisper on the wind.

  Do it, the god commanded.

  …

  “Bjorn!” Anja screamed her husband’s name. He was right next to her, yet he was not. He was gazing outward, but his eyes were glazed and unseeing, their normal blue eaten by the black of his pupils. There was no sign of recognition there, only bloodlust.

  A low growl vibrated deep in his chest. Razor-sharp claws extended from the ends of his fingers.

  “What are you doing to him?”

  Odin’s smile made her blood freeze. “He is my creature, my beast. Once he slays you, he will be mine to command forever.”

  “No.” Sven yanked her away from Bjorn. “I will not let him harm her.”

  “Control your pet, Freya.”

  “You control yours,” she shot back.

  Anja ignored the bickering gods. Bjorn’s bones began to break, his body reshaping and reforming. Fur pushed out from beneath his skin. A heartbeat later, the huge wolf stood before her, gums pulled back and fangs gleaming with the promise of death.

  Maccus, Asher, and Alexei started forward, but she held up her hand. “Stay back.” The gods would kill them if they tried to interfere.

  “You should listen to her,” Odin sneered at Maccus.

  “I will protect you.” Sven raised his weapon.

  She put her hand on the axe handle and pushed it down. “No.”

  “He will kill you.”

  The giant wolf stared at her through cold black eyes. His ears were flat, his muscles coiled to pounce.

  Odin was using the curse he’d placed on Bjorn, trying to incite him to bloodlust.

  “Just as I could not let your father kill you when you first confronted us, I cannot let you harm your father. If you fight, one of you will die. That I cannot bear.” She turned to the goddess. “I will go with you.” Anything to stop this madness.

  “Fine.” Freya crooked her finger. “Come. I’m tired of this place.”

  Anja had never sought power, had been content with her life, but oh how she wanted it now. The gods called them arrogant, but they were the ones who truly thought there was no one above them, no consequences for their actions.

  “Help your father,” she said to Sven. “He will need you more than ever.”

  His jaw taut, he gave a curt nod. The fingers wrapped around his axe were white, his muscles trembled beneath the enforced restraint.

  “No, he goes with us. He is my hunter.”

  “He is my son. You promised him a chance at a life and then robbed him of it by making him your warrior without his consent.”

  Odin frowned. “Is that true?”

  “It is an honor to serve me. I gifted him with immortal life. It is woven so tightly into his makeup it cannot be undone.”

  “Then kill him.” Odin spoke of death as if it meant nothing to him, and it likely didn’t. She and her son weren’t his, so he didn’t care. All he was concerned about was himself and a
dvancing his own interests.

  “That would be a breach of my word.” Freya threw her arms in the air. “How could you even suggest such a thing? Why don’t you kill your beast? He was disobedient.”

  The wolf growled and snapped at the goddess. She took a hasty step back before recovering and glaring. “Keep that up and I’ll defang you, you mutt,” she muttered.

  “Odin, why did you put a bounty on my head and send all your werewolves after me?” Anja asked. As long as the gods were diverted, maybe she could come up with some plan to at least save Bjorn and her son.

  “I did no such thing. I pay no attention to those creatures, and I certainly wouldn’t offer them money. I’d command them to do my bidding. I sent in my wolf. I figured he’d handle it for me. Why didn’t he kill you or at least call me to do it?” The last was addressed to Anja.

  “You do not know.” She sucked in a breath. “Bjorn is my husband, and you, a god, cursed him to kill anyone responsible for my death.” A spark of inspiration struck. “I am alive again. If you slay me, he will attack you, not me.”

  Was it too much to hope? Knowing her husband, the man who loved her and who she loved more than life itself, was inside the wolf, she went to him. The low growl made the earth beneath her feet tremble. Or maybe that was just her shaky knees.

  “Bjorn, I am your wife.” She pressed her hands on his muzzle. Razor-sharp fangs were inches from her face. He could take her head off with one bite.

  But she had on her side something the gods didn’t. She had love.

  Ignoring the menacing sounds coming from him and the saliva dripping from his mouth—so not a turn-on—she stared into his beautiful blue eyes, searching for her man.

  “I love you, Bjorn Knutson. I waited many years for you. I will wait again if I must. But you are mine. You do not belong to any god. Do you hear me?”

  “We all hear you,” Odin grumbled. “It will do you no good. I have spoken.”

  She ignored him, focusing all her attention on the wolf. “I love you.” Leaning inward, she brushed her lips against his fur.