by Kendall Grey
The table quiets for a long, awkward moment. I decide a change of topic is in order. “I appreciate everyone’s help. I wouldn’t have Kenaz without you. But this is the part where I return you to your life’s regularly scheduled programming. Odin is sure to come after me for relieving him of sixty-odd runes that kept up the glamour surrounding Nine Realms. I’ve exposed and humiliated him. I’m sure to bear the brunt of his wrath, and I don’t want to put any of you in harm’s way. Tomorrow I’ll go in search of Othala and Ihwaz. Alone.”
“Don’t be silly,” Freddie says. “You’re not going anywhere without me. I’ll protect you from big, bad Odin and his grubby minions.”
“I can’t ask you to do that,” I reply.
“You didn’t ask. I volunteered. Wiggles, Sparky, and I are coming with. End of.”
I lower my head and say, “Thank you, Freddie. You’re incredibly generous.”
“Besides,” he says, “you’re broke. You need me and my money more than I do.”
I can’t argue with that logic.
“I’m on sabbatical from work,” Darryl Donovan says. “I’d been contemplating taking a break for a while. When I got your call, Loki, I took it as a sign. I enjoy cosplaying Thor far more than I expected I would. If you need some muscle, I’ll live the dream with you for a few weeks. I got nothing else to do.”
“You gave up your job to come here?” I’m truly surprised.
Darryl Donovan shrugs with a sparkle in his eye. “Something about you I can’t resist, Loki.”
Thunder beckons in the distance. I suppress a shudder.
Gunnar Magnusson’s eyes shift to Darryl Donovan, and unspoken words pass between them.
“I’m not likely to have a job if I return to Nine Realms,” Alexander says, “so, if it’s all the same to you, I’ll tag along and warm Freddie’s bed until he tires of me, which should be about,” he lifts his wrist to inspect his watch, “eight-thirty tomorrow morning.”
Freddie grins and nudges him with a shoulder. “Stop it. I’m keeping you around at least until nine.” He winks at Alexander.
“What about you, Gunnar?” Freddie asks.
All eyes turn to Gunnar Magnusson. I keep mine focused on chasing goat nuggets around my plate with my fork.
“Oh, I’m definitely out of a job,” he says with regret.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly.
I can’t look at him. I’ve brought him so much trouble and pain. Making other people miserable is fine and dandy, but I don’t like seeing him hurt. Especially when I’m the cause.
Silence stretches into a long, agonizing moment of uncertainty.
“But I’d already decided to quit anyway,” Gunnar Magnusson finally says. “The work environment … wasn’t for me.”
He turns to me. I blink to keep from getting emotional. Neither of us says anything. We don’t have to. I just squeeze the hand still twined with mine and smile.
The sari-draped waitress comes over and leaves our check on the table. I grab it and say, “Dinner is on me.”
Murmurs of approval ring out.
I lean over to Freddie and say, “Can I borrow another one of those Ben Franklins I gave you?”
He laughs with a dismissive shake of his head and opens his wallet. He extracts a fistful of dollars and stuffs them in my hand. “Keep your money. We’re even.”
I smile. “Really?”
He nods and gestures to our friends. “You let us tag along on your crazy journey to immortality and continue to give us the time of our lives every single day. It’s the least I can do.”
“Thank you.”
Movement outside the window catches my attention. My heart stumbles into the uncomfortable rhythm it’s so fond of lately, and my implant slows things down. It’s artificial and won’t last, but it’s all I’ve got until I find the elusive Ihwaz. I put some money in the little black sleeve the waitress left and say, “I need to check on something. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Gunnar Magnusson watches me with a question in his eyes as I ease my hand out of his.
“Everything is fine,” I assure him.
I walk outside and subtly wave for Muninn to follow me out of sight. He zips up behind me. When I turn around, I say, “Are you wearing sunglasses? How did you find ones small enough to fit your wee bean of a head?”
The dark-shaded hummingbird grunts and hovers close to my face. “Listen, bitch. I’m here to deliver a message.”
Oh boy. Here we go again.
“As soon as Frigg finds Odin, she’s going to crush your immortality rune to dust and feed it to her boars. You fixin’ to get stitches from the queen of bitches.”
I figured as much. I cross my arms over my chest. “That’s your message?”
“You got a problem with it? I was trying to help your sorry ass,” he retorts.
“No, it’s just that I thought you were Odin’s bitch, not Frigg’s.”
He flits backward. “I ain’t nobody’s bitch, bitch.”
“If you’re delivering messages for bitches, you’re a bitch by default, bitch.”
“Maybe next time, I’ll keep my warnings to myself, bitch.”
“But it’s fun to stir the shite pot, isn’t it?” I tease. “Keep stirring, bitch. I appreciate the heads up.”
“You got it,” Muninn says, his tone softer. “Do me a favor?”
“What?”
Muninn hesitates. “Watch out for Huginn? He’s got a target on his head too.”
“Birds of a feather,” I say.
“Birds of a feather,” he agrees and zips a few feet away before turning back. “Best keep an eye on them runes. Your friends don’t know it, but they have a vested interest in ’em too. And you sure don’t want them getting ahold of anything that might … incriminate you.”
Truth.
“Tell me one thing,” I call after him. “Who should I be more afraid of? Odin or Frigg?”
He pauses. “For now, you better be on your best behavior and find your exit right quick. Odin’s pissed he lost sixty of his bargaining chips, but Frigg is murderous that she lost 75 million of her favorite bucks, and I ain’t talkin’ about deer. She invested everything she had in Nine Realms, and now she’s gotta start over. You scorned an already scorned woman. If I were you, I’d sleep with a spear under my pillow.”
So, Frigg’s and Odin’s relationship cooled over the centuries, and she built her own empire, separate from him. That would explain why she had no problem going after Gunnar Magnusson. I doubt she would have done it if she were still with Odin, regardless of how badly she wanted to get back at me for the Baldur incident.
“I prefer not to sleep at all,” I say absently.
Muninn nods. “Smart man.”
The bell on the Indian restaurant’s door around the corner jingles, and he flies away. Moments later, my friends appear carrying take-out boxes. I join them on their trek toward the van.
“Well, boys, it looks like we’re going on the run with a bagful of god runes.” I pat my purse.
“All in a day’s work,” Alexander says. “We should call ourselves Protectors of the Runes.”
Darryl Donovan adds, “Or the Rune Protectorate.”
“That has a nice ring to it,” Freddie says and unlocks the van with a chirp from his key fob.
The engine is still running with the air conditioning blasting cold air. He rigged it up to keep Huginn, Sparky, and Wiggles from getting heat stroke while we ate. When the back door slides open, Wiggles looks up with his chill green eyes and says, “What’s up?”
I cock my head and try to cover my surprise. I glance at the others to see if anyone heard the cat speak. Huginn seems to be the only one who did, and he looks as incredulous as I am. Everyone climbs inside the vehicle, and Sparky hisses at Darryl Donovan, “Dude, you’re on my tail.”
This time, I can’t hide my shock.
SQUARK? Huginn says.
I need to get these cats alone and find out what they know. I cast a curio
us look at Huginn, who shrugs.
Freddie shuts the side door before I can get in. “Loki, you’re riding shotgun.”
“I’ll assume ‘riding shotgun’ has nothing to do with weapons,” I say.
Freddie points to the passenger seat. What an odd request. I thought he’d want Alexander to sit with him.
I start to round the front of the van, but Freddie touches my good arm. “When am I getting my rune, Loki?”
Uhhh … WHAT?
I quickly scan the area for any rogue hummingbirds, but Muninn is long gone, and I’m certain Freddie didn’t see him.
Shite. Shite. SHITE!
Freddie peers expectantly at me over the top of his sunglasses, holds out an open palm, and wiggles his fingers. “Come on, give it up.”
Loki— Laguz warns.
I lean closer and whisper, “How did you know?”
His face brightens with surprise. “I didn’t. You just told me.”
You idiot, Laguz says.
“So,” Freddie grins. “Which god am I?”
Want to find out what happens next?
DRAGGED, book 3 in the Asgard Awakening series
Friends can be such a drag …
Hello again. It's me, your favorite reincarnated Norse trickster god, Loki.
I still have boobs.
I'm also suffering from a health issue that has a 99.43% chance of permanently ending me (assuming the Norns don't get to me first). And I can't find my immortality rune. And the runes I did recover are playing fisticuffs with each other. And I've been cursed with an inability to lie. One by one, my new friends are turning out to be old foes. Oh, and did I mention I accidentally on purpose destroyed Odin's gazillion-dollar business investment, and now he's sharpening his spear for me too?
I hate Tuesdays.
But I finally got a lead on another rune. With a trip to a drag queen pageant in San Francisco in my future, I just have to convince my friends Gunnar Magnusson, Freddie, and Darryl Donovan that they're destined to change the world in dresses and heels. That would transform this terrible Tuesday into the funnest Frigg-ing Friday since Ragnarok.
Book 3 in the Asgard Awakening urban fantasy comedy series
Acknowledgments
This book would not have been possible without a huge assist from Huginn’s Hooligans, aka the Lokesters, aka the Lords of Wokeness. Brittany Reece, Brittany Warren, David Michael, Debi Krupa, Diane Undeberg McElrath, Marsha McNeese, Missy Piatt Van Der Mallie, and Nancy Doublin, you folks make my job fun. Thank you for all the time and energy you spent helping me get GILDED ready for the world. Thanks also to Emma Rider at Moonstruck Cover Design & Photography for the amazing Asgard Awakening book covers and series branding, to Heather Falk Bruce and her husband for Icelandic translations, to my family, and to all my readers. Thank you for taking a chance on me.
Loki and friends will return soon in book 3 of the Asgard Awakening series. Stay tuned for DRAGGED!
About the Author
A whale warrior, indie freedom fighter, and vodka martini aficionado, Kendall Grey is calm like an F-bomb*. She writes about fierce women and the men who love them. Her aliases include Kendall Day (FALLING FOR MR. SLATER) and Seven Slade (COMING OUT).
Kendall lives off a dirt road near Atlanta, Georgia, with three mischievous Demonlings, a dashing geek in cyber armor, a long-haired miniature Dachshund that thinks she's a cat, and an Aussie shepherd mix whose ice-blue eyes will steal your heart and hold it for ransom.
*Detonation manual not included.
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Also by Kendall Grey
Asgard Awakening Series
Runed (Also available in audiobook from Audible and Apple Books)
Gilded (Also available in audiobook from Audible and Apple Books)
Dragged
Fooled (coming soon!)
Just Breathe Series
Inhale
Exhale
Just Breathe
’Ohana Series
Hot-Blooded
Cold-Blooded
Half-Blooded (coming soon)
Hard Rock Harlots Series
Strings (Also available in audiobook from Audible and Apple Books)
Beats (Also available in audiobook from Audible and Apple Books)
Nocturnes
Rock
Bang
Standalones
Alpha Prez and the First Lady’s Secret Weapon
Ghosts
For signed copies of Kendall’s books, please visit the Howling Mad Press bookstore
From Howling Mad Press
Falling for Mr. Slater by Kendall Day
Coming Out by Seven Slade