* * *
Managarm kept his eyes locked on the bookstore entrance. He’d watched the little witch manage to get herself inside, even after that moment of panic at the door. But that had been forty minutes ago, according to Opal who kept giving him time updates every 90 seconds.
The rain had let up, and the sun made its first appearance of the day. Managarm pulled a pair of sunglasses out of the glove compartment and slipped them on without looking away from Powells.
“Come on, little witch,” he whispered. “Come on out now.”
He felt a dull thump on the back of the driver’s seat.
“You know a pizza place that’s open? I’m hungry!” the Berserker complained from the back seat. “How about some onion rings?”
Managarm turned in his seat and glowered at the warrior. If David hadn’t been the only Berserker currently on the scene, Managarm would have dropped him off under a bridge someplace to fend for himself. David lifted his foot to kick the seat again, but Managarm grabbed his ankle and yanked it upward. David slid violently down in the seat.
“Hey!” David protested as his butt hit the floorboards, littered with discarded soda bottles and fast food wrappers.
Managarm leaned over the seat and growled at him. “I told you to stop kicking me!”
Before he could let go of David’s pants leg, Baron swiped at Managarm’s hand with a loud hiss. Managarm jerked his hand back and snarled at the stripes of blood rising on the back of his hand. He made to grab at the animal, but Baron leapt out of the way.
“You got any crackers up there?” David crawled back up onto the seat and reached out to pet Baron, perched on the arm rest on the passenger-side back door. The cat purred at the Berserker’s touch, but when Managarm turned to glare at him, Baron narrowed his eyes—accompanied by an ear-splitting growl—and hissed again.
“I don’t think he likes you,” said Opal, glancing at her watch.
Managarm was fast losing control over his passengers. The Berserker had no respect for his authority. The four-eyed girl looked at him with a mixture of suspicion and disdain, and there was little doubt the cursed cat was out for his blood.
But the Berserker obeyed Sally’s instructions. Opal wouldn’t let Sally go anywhere with Managarm without her, and Sally refused to leave the cat behind.
And he did still need the little witch.
Managarm cleared his throat and attempted a smile. “I think you’re right,” he said to Opal. “Do you think the cat would be more comfortable back in Sally’s bag?”
Opal shrugged. “Yeah, okay. Here you go, Baron.”
She reached into the back to gather the cat into her arms, and Baron took advantage of the opportunity to take a swipe at Managarm’s face as Opal pulled him into the front seat. Managarm leaned back just in time to miss the cat’s claws.
“Thanks,” Managarm said, swallowing his irritation.
Opal grabbed Sally’s bag from between her feet and tried stuffing the cat inside. “Come on, Barry. Grumpy old puss.” The cat was not cooperating. Mewling impatiently, Baron kept splaying his fat legs wide every time Opal tried to lower him into the bag.
“All right, let’s try this, then.” Opal unzipped the bag as wide as it would go, and the bag’s contents—Sally’s hairbrush, Book of Shadows, cell phone, rune bag, bundled sage wand, and several hardback books—spilled out onto the seat. Opal picked up the cat and settled him easily into the wider space, then zipped up the backpack around him.
Managarm pushed Sally’s personal items back across the seat toward Opal, but as his fingers brushed against the dried herbs, he felt a familiar spark ripple over his skin. Opal was loading Sally’s stuff back into the bag around Baron’s substantial girth, but when she reached for the sage wand, Managarm scooped it up first.
He sniffed at the sage and lavender bound tightly with string and felt the familiar electric sensation play over his skin.
Frigga. The goddess of the hearth and home had bound these herbs.
He grabbed Opal’s shoulder and held the smudge stick in her face. “Where did you get this?”
Opal tried to move closer to the door to get away from him, but he held her firmly in place. “I don’t know. Some girl gave it to Sally yesterday, in the bookstore.” She gestured toward Powells across the street. “Ow! You’re hurting me!”
Though he enjoyed the feel of her squirming under his grasp, he let her go but held onto the bundled herbs. He remembered, centuries ago, watching Frigga harvest and dry herbs such as these. Then she’d bound them together in magickal combinations for healing, for prophecy, to protect women in childbirth . . . She had even prepared protective amulets for her sons to wear into battle, but she’d never tossed so much as a clump of moss to the Moon Dog and his Warg kin.
He closed his eyes and tried to recall the scents of Frigga’s hearth—her rosemary breads, potato pies, and licorice mead . . .
“I got it!” Sally yanked the back door open with enthusiasm and piled into the car.
Startled out of his reverie, Managarm glanced at the book she was waving about. “That’s it?”
“Not only that.” Sally rested against the back seat with a satisfied smile and pushed a few empty chip bags and candy bar wrappers onto the floor. “Saga showed me exactly what to do to reverse what’s happened to me.”
Managarm felt like he was suddenly bolted to the seat. “Saga?” He looked back across the street to the bookstore, then remembered the sage wand in his hand. “Is she the one who gave you this?”
Sally nodded and held the book happily to her chest. “Opal, I told you it wasn’t any accident that someone with her name would know about runes. It’s fate.”
Managarm’s blood ran cold. He reached back and grabbed Sally by the wrist, pulling her forward and making her look at him. “You say Saga works in that bookstore?”
“Yeah.” She grimaced in pain. Managarm loosened his grip, but didn’t let go.
“And she instructed you in a cure for your condition?”
Sally struggled against him. Managarm didn’t want to hurt her, but it was about time she realized who was really in charge. “Answer me!” he shouted.
But before Sally could respond, David grabbed Managarm’s hand and in a flash not only freed Sally but bent Managarm’s thumb backward, effectively incapacitating him. The Moon Dog growled in agony, baring his teeth. “Release me, you cur!” Managarm bellowed, but the Berserker only strengthened his grip.
“You will not harm her,” the Berserker snarled back.
Baron popped his head out of the top of Sally’s backpack and started growling and spitting at Managarm again.
Sally laid a hand on David’s shoulder. “David! Stop that! There’s no need for violence.”
David immediately released Managarm. The Moon Dog massaged his right hand fiercely, trying to rub away the pain.
Sally looked from David to Managarm in confusion, then glanced at Opal, who simply shrugged.
Managarm leaned back against the headrest and caught Sally’s eye in the rearview mirror. “You were saying?” he grumbled.
“Right. Saga showed me what I need to do, though I think you’re right about waiting until after the Black Moon.” She opened the book in her lap and absently paged through it. “So I—sorry, we—can stay focused on Odin’s Return for now.”
Managarm grimaced at the mention of the Chief God’s name, plus his hand was still throbbing. “And did you tell this Saga with whom you are working?”
Sally smiled at his reflection in the rearview mirror. “Of course not.” She hugged the book close to her body. “Your secret is safe with me.”
“Very good.” Managarm barely managed to slide the key into the ignition. It would be a while before his hand stopped smarting. Once he had fully bent this little witch and her four-eyed friend to his will, the Berserker would pay for his offense, and so would that beast of a cat.
~ thirteen ~
Valhalla Page 27