Valhalla

by Jennifer Willis

Sally sat near the campfire with pieces of the Sitka Spruce laid out on the ground before her. It was long past sundown, and she was alone in the camp with Managarm.

  She had a half-dozen runes—Teiwaz, Mannaz, Isa, Nauthiz, Sowilu, and Laguz—forming a half-star crown pattern. The rest of the runes were divided into two vertical lines on either side, all of them covered with a fragrant dusting of charred sage.

  She thumbed through her Book of Shadows self-consciously, cross-referencing her notes against the books scattered at her sides and paying particular attention to the book on Freya’s rune spells she’d found at the store that morning.

  Managarm sat just outside the tent and slowly turned the pages of a romance novel that Opal had stashed in her purse, but Sally could feel his eyes on her.

  She ran her fingers self-consciously through her hair—which was now falling out at an alarming rate—and tried to concentrate. Her cell phone rang for about the twelfth time since Opal had been dispatched on yet another fast food run. Sally frowned at the display. Her parents were calling again, and she was sorely tempted to answer. Her thumb gravitated toward the ACCEPT button.

  “Why don’t you turn off your phone?”

  Sally looked up at Managarm, her thumb hovering over the button. “But it’s my parents. I only left them a note yesterday. I should let them know I’m okay.”

  Managarm looked at her hard, his dark eyes blazing in the firelight. “They wouldn’t understand. Trust me.”

  “I wouldn’t tell them anything. I just don’t want them to worry.”

  The phone stopped ringing. Managarm smiled. “Your former life is over, little witch. Focus on your work for now. If you want to make explanations later, that’s up to you.”

  “Yeah, okay,” Sally responded softly. She started to put the phone away.

  “Don’t forget to turn it off.” Managarm spooned fresh coffee grounds into a brand new French press.

  With a sinking feeling in her stomach, Sally powered down her phone and looked over at Managarm. He’s an old god, she reminded herself. He’s knows better than I do.

  She bent over her Book of Shadows. An excited shiver ran through her fingers as she made notes about how the runic symbols had glowed again and even smoked as she had chanted over them. Sally paused a moment, then haltingly scrawled:

  “I never knew I had this kind of power! Always suspected I might have special abilities, and maybe this proves it. Maybe it’s because I’m working with the god Managarm. Managarm! He makes me nervous, but I’m helping him reach his goal, the same as mine, to heal the world. I can’t wait to see what I can do next!”

  She frowned at her handwriting on the page, then added:

  “Still, something doesn’t feel exactly right.”

  Sally capped her pen. Even compared to the previous day, it had been a pretty crazy afternoon. David had carved up his chest in such a gruesome way, and then more Berserkers had stumbled into camp—a pretty black lady named Rita; Peter, a boy about Opal’s age, wearing a Reed College sweatshirt and expensive blue jeans; and some older naked guy named Doug.

  They’d all taken hold of Managarm’s knife and cut the same crescent moon symbol into their chests. Sally had managed to hold it together when Rita and Peter gave themselves the mark, but when Doug grabbed the knife and started slicing into his already bare flesh, Sally had nearly fainted.

  She’d been glad when Managarm sent Rita, David, and Doug off on some mysterious quest he’d whispered to them about at the edge of the camp. She didn’t know where they were going—Managarm wanted her to concentrate on her spell-work instead—but she still had to give the Berserkers the official go ahead before they took off. She didn’t quite understand that, but anything that meant that Doug was leaving was fine with her. His pale, wrinkled skin hung off of him like wet paper, and he reminded her of what she must look like now, too.

  With Peter accompanying Opal on her errands and Baron still sequestered inside the tent, Sally was alone with the Moon Dog.

  “Progress?”

  Sally glanced up to find Managarm looking at her with raised eyebrows.

  “Umm, yeah.” She paged back through her journal and also tapped on a diagram in her new book. “I think I’ve got it. This spell sends a call out to the Yggdrasil. We have to wait a little while, but then I can do this next pattern to show where the Tree is. Kind of like a receiver—”

  “And the Berserkers? There are more coming, yes?”

  “Mmm.” Sally nodded. She understood wanting to find the World Tree. When Managarm wasn’t looking she’d lapsed into daydreams about a magickal altar at the base of the Yggdrasil, going straight to the source to instill the harmonious and reverent values that would spread across the globe. But Sally wasn’t sold on calling up so many Berserkers. The idea of a warrior class being turned into missionaries just didn’t seem workable.

  Sally rested her hands on top of her books. “How many do you need?”

  Managarm just looked at her and smiled.

  Sally lowered her head and fidgeted with the cuffs of her sleeves. She didn’t like the way he’d been looking at her the past few hours. She should feel honored to be in the private company of one of the gods, but she’d really wanted to go on that errand with Opal, just to take a break and have some time with her friend in this brief window where no magick was required.

  But Managarm made her stay at the camp to work. She couldn’t blame him for wanting to be diligent and precise—she was herself a perfectionist when it came to her own magick—but she was starting to feel like he was punishing her for something she didn’t even know she’d done. And she felt herself growing more weary by the hour.

  Sally looked up again. Managarm was still staring at her, with the forgotten novel lying on the dirt beside him.

  “So you chased the moon, and your brother chased the sun, to keep the cycle of day and night going?” She looked at the early evening stars overhead. “I guess the constellations probably looked different then  . . .”

  “It was not an ideal situation,” Managarm responded gruffly. “It wasn’t literal, you know.” He reached for the camp kettle and poured hot water into the French press. “We weren’t literally out in space chasing the sun and moon.”

  “Well, sure.” Waiting for him to continue, Sally scratched her knee and wondered if she was also now developing psoriasis to go along with her thinning hair and the aching joints she feared were due to arthritis. But Managarm simply gestured toward the runes in front of her. Disappointed, Sally looked back down at the rune book and started triple-checking her plans for the next spell, which she expected to give the exact location of the World Tree.

  Managarm poured himself a mug of steaming coffee. Through a series of furtive peeks, Sally watched and wondered when the Norse gods would have started drinking coffee. He raised the cup to his mouth to take a sip when he froze, the tin cup just inches from his mouth.

  “What is it?”

  He shot her a menacing look, and Sally instinctively hunched down where she sat. Managarm pointed toward the surrounding trees, and that’s when she heard the footsteps. They were soft, but steadily approaching the campsite.

  She gathered her books and made to crawl toward the tent, but Managarm held up a hand for her to stop, then pressed a finger against his lips. She sat back down and hugged her knees to her chest.

  Managarm lifted the stick he’d been using to stir the fire and rose silently to his feet. The footsteps came more quickly now, and Sally pulled her shirt close around her neck against the uncomfortable thrill of adrenaline and the pounding of her own heart. She quickly decided she wasn’t as fond of life with the gods as she’d expected.

  The surrounding brush shook, and Managarm squared his shoulders. But when the teenager emerged from the trees with his white karate uniform streaked with dirt and his scraped and bleeding bare feet, Managarm lowered his stick and laughed. The wide-eyed boy stopped in his tracks and considered Managarm for a moment, then looked past h
im to Sally. His young face brightened into a smile.

  “Another one?” Sally felt her shoulders relax.

  Managarm stepped out of the boy’s way as he walked across the camp toward Sally. She started to get up to greet him, but he was instantly on his knees beside her.

  “I am Adam.” He inclined his head and whispered. “I have come to serve you.”

  “Yeah, okay.” Sally tried to get the teenager to look her in the eye. “Just please don’t—”

  But Managarm was already standing beside the boy, holding his hunting knife out to him.

  “I can’t watch this again!” Sally covered her face with her hands and made her way quickly to the tent. She ducked inside and grabbed Baron, holding the squirming cat close as she buried her face in his fur.

  “I’m so sorry, Baron,” Sally whispered into his back, though she wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for.

  “Sally!” The sound of Managarm’s voice made her jump. Baron mewled uneasily.

  Sally put Baron down and fluffed up the bed she’d made for him inside her backpack. “He’s a god, Barry. I have to do what he says.” She backed out of the tent, watching Baron’s staring eyes as she went. “This will all be over soon. I promise.”

  Sally climbed out of the tent to find Managarm standing over the boy. Catching Sally’s eye, Managarm gestured toward the boy’s clothing, now soaked with blood from the crescent-shaped wound on his chest. “The dojo uniform’s a nice touch. Could use a few more like this one.”

  Sally grimaced at the blood and tried to focus on the boy’s face instead. “You said your name is Adam?”

  The kid’s face lit up. “And you are the Moon Witch.”

  Sally frowned at Managarm. “What’s this Moon Witch business? And can’t you stop them from cutting themselves? Seriously, I can’t stand it.”

  “It’s the symbol of the Moon Dog.”

  “The symbol of the Moon Witch!” Adam rose to his feet and snarled at Managarm, then turned toward Sally. Caught in Adam’s black eyes, she took a couple of involuntary steps backward and nearly collided with the tent.

  “Your call has brought me here.” Adam headed straight for Sally and reached into the interior pocket of his blood-soaked kendo jacket. “I bring you an offering.”

  “An offering?” Sally recoiled slightly, afraid of what Adam might produce out of his uniform, but then she looked into his outstretched palm and saw a late model wireless phone. “You brought us a cell phone?”

  “We have no use for another phone,” Managarm grumbled.

  “This phone belongs to Odin’s clan.” Adam’s dark eyes glinted as he smiled at Sally.

  “O-Odin?” Sally stammered.

  “Freyr.” Adam grinned wider.

  Sally saw Managarm edge closer, and she definitely didn’t like the look of the smile spreading across his face.