Valhalla

by Jennifer Willis

  * * *

  “A gay biker gang? The Valkyries are a gay biker gang.” Thor’s head was hurting again. He glanced over at Freya, who was handing out warm mugs as fast as she could pour the tea, and wondered if it would be any good for his headache. He stared out the window, on the lookout for any more surprises headed toward the dojo. “A bookstore lady, a little Hindu guy, and now these blokes,” he grumbled, not really caring if anyone heard him. “What’s next?”

  The scruffy men in black leather—bearing the name of the winged angels who ferried the souls of fallen heroes to Valhalla—stood on the other side of the room, drinking tea and watching Thor.

  Their captain handed his mug back to Freya and approached the god of thunderbolts.

  “We don’t make apologies or excuses for who we are.” He held his chin high, exposing the white t-shirt beneath his leather jacket, and rested his hands on his hips. “I’m Ted. I’ve been running this group for twelve years. We ride in Gay Pride events and serve as the honor guard at the funerals of gay and lesbian soldiers killed in combat. If you have a problem with that, I can’t help you.”

  Thor glanced at Tariq. He’d already been accused of bigotry once this afternoon, even though it had been more surprise than true prejudice at work. Thor shook his head. “No, no problem.” He turned and headed for a bench against the far wall. “I need to sit down.”

  Saga sat beside him and watched the new Vikings—only fourteen strong—mill about the studio, drinking tea and munching on cookies.

  Saga nudged her brother. “Not exactly the Valkyries of legend.”

  Thor snorted and reached for the cell phone vibrating in his pocket. “Not exactly, no.”

  “We don’t have the luxury of being picky right now.”

  Thor read aloud the text message on his phone. “From Heimdall. One of the Berserkers he saw in the woods dropped a wallet, with an address in it . . . 123 NW Davis—”

  “Apartment 13Q.” Saga held up her own phone. “Message from the Moon Witch—at least, the person I’m guessing is the Moon Witch.”

  “Crazy book lady?”

  Saga sighed. “Managarm’s headquarters. That’s a swanky building.”

  Thor thundered to his feet. “What are we sitting here for? We know where he is—let’s go get him!”

  Before Thor could go storming across the floor to get the Einherjar all excited, Saga pulled him back. He spun impatiently on his heel to face her. “What is it now? We can prevent this whole thing from happening right now if we just get over there.”

  Saga shook her head and passed the phone to Thor to read. “He’s not there.”

  Thor frowned at the tiny characters on the screen. “But the witch is? Well, that’s just as good. We grab her and prevent her from helping him further.”

  Saga nodded and took her phone back.

  “Send Loki and Rod. They can handle this.”

  Saga looked up in surprise. “Wait a minute. You want to send Loki straight to Managarm? I thought you weren’t convinced Loki’s not involved?”

  “I’m not. But as soon as Loki gets within fifty feet of that fancy apartment, the whole place goes kaplooey, doesn’t it?” Thor turned to face his assembled kin and Vikings. “All right. Unless there are more of you coming, we’re setting out for the Yggdrasil—”

  At the mention of the World Tree, an excited murmur arose in the sparse ranks of the Einherjar warriors. Thor raised his hands to call for quiet. “We’ll, uh, figure out some kind of carpool arrangement and pick up supplies along the way—”

  Tariq laughed and starting jumping up and down. “Vikings!”

  “Right. Great enthusiasm.” Thor cleared his throat. “So let’s head out to the parking lot . . .”

  Colorful commotion on the sidewalk outside the dojo’s storefront window caught Thor’s attention, and his mouth dropped open as he turned his head to find about a hundred-and-twenty Portland State University football players, pep band members, and cheerleaders huddled on the sidewalk and spilling onto the street. They stared back at him.

  “Vikings!” Tariq exclaimed again, pointing at the window with glee.

  “Holy crap.” Ted caught Thor’s eye and gestured toward the complement of new Vikings on the sidewalk. “Now this we can work with.”

  The young athletes and musicians streamed into the dojo. A huge smile spread across Thor’s face, and he nodded back at Ted. “Is this you? Did the Valkyries do this?”

  “Victor E. Viking!” Tariq exclaimed as the team’s mascot entered the dojo, his plush-costume helmet and horns narrowly missing the ceiling. “Victory to the Vikings!”

  “Go, Viks!” the cheerleaders sang out.