“No. But she makes lots of money being a talentless ho. And I love making money off people who don’t deserve what they’re getting. It makes me feel like I’m accomplishing something when I take my percentage.”
“You’re not.”
“But if anyone is going to be a priestess for Gullveig, I bet it’s that nasty little slit. But so what? So what if she’s Gullveig’s priestess? What are we supposed to do with that information?”
“I’m hoping she can let us know if and when Gullveig is returning. We can’t just sit around waiting for her.”
“We’re not. Battle plans are being readied. The geek Clans are doing their research. The Vikings are on this.”
“I still want to see this thing through.”
“Then do it. I seriously doubt your tracking Jourdan Ambrosio is going to adversely affect the current situation. It’s already the end of the world.”
“Not necessarily. We could still pull this out.”
“That’s the difference between you and me, sweetie. You’re always so hopeful.” She patted Erin’s knee. “And don’t worry. I won’t say a word to anybody. It’ll be between you and me.”
“Good. I don’t want to hear it from Kera when she finds out what I’m up to. ‘You can’t do this alone,’” Erin said in a high mocking voice. “ ‘You’re not an army of one. We’re a team. We have to do all things together. I used to be a Marine.’ Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah! She’ll drive me nuts.”
“She will. And don’t get me wrong. I do like Kera but . . . whoa. My father was former military and I’ve been having flashbacks since she became a Crow.” Betty picked up her wineglass and took a sip. “So I hear you’re fucking Stieg Engstrom.”
Erin shrugged, not really in the mood to lie, but not in the mood to explain anything, either.
“That’s kind of some low-hanging fruit, isn’t it? Poor little street kid.”
Erin rolled her eyes and fell back on the couch, making Betty laugh.
“God, calm down. I know you didn’t fuck Stieg Engstrom.”
That surprised Erin. Everyone else who’d heard assumed that “of course” she did and “of course” she’d somehow managed to use the big bastard. “How do you know that?”
“Because if you had, you’d be walking bowlegged.”
“Thanks for that visual.”
“I call it like I see it, and that man is a Viking’s Viking. So why are you telling everybody you did?”
“He’s my cover for last night.”
“Because of this thing with Ambrosio?”
“No. I met up with Tommy in one of the clubs I hit.”
“Tommy who?”
“The guy who killed me.”
Betty reared back. “What?” She placed her wineglass on the coffee table. “What the hell, Erin?”
“I was stupid. I wasn’t paying attention . . . things got a little out of hand.”
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. Stieg actually was there. I kind of think he was following me, but I don’t know why, and he won’t tell me. Then again, I’m not sure he knows why. Ya know?”
Betty studied Erin for a moment before guessing, “You got shot in the head again, didn’t you?”
Erin threw up her free hand. “How many times, Betty? Seriously. How many? It’s starting to give me a complex.”
“Awww, sweetie.” Betty patted her knee. “It should. It should give you a complex.”
* * *
“I need you to do me a favor.”
Stieg immediately replied, “No.”
Jace got that look on her face that he was sure she reserved just for him. “Stieg Engstrom!”
“No. I’m not following that crazy woman around. She attracts trouble.”
“I need you to protect her.”
“Why do you say that? Have you been talking to the guys from the Vatican? I know you’re on better terms with them than I am.”
“No. Have you been talking to the Vatican?”
“It’s kind of complicated.”
“You know what . . . don’t tell me. As we’re speaking, I can feel the rage building. Just do me this favor. Watch out for her.”
“I’m not getting involved in this! She is not my problem. She will never be my problem!”
“Do this for me.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“No.”
“Pleeeeeeeeeeease!”
“All right!” Stieg briefly rubbed his eyes with his fists. “And I hate you.”
“No, you don’t. You love me.”
“Shut up.”
* * *
Danski “Ski” Eriksen was sitting in the kitchen of the Protectors’ home. A mansion that held the largest private library of its kind anywhere on the West Coast. He’d been spending days reading through old Norwegian text—one of the few languages he knew well—desperately trying to find something that could help them in the upcoming war when a plate of brownies was placed in front of him.
He looked at the woman he loved and smiled. “Hi, Jace.”
She sat down next to him. She tried to smile but it didn’t happen.
“What’s wrong?”
“I was talking to Stieg.”
“I’m sorry. That’s a lot of dumb to deal with in one day.” When she stared at him, her bottom lip sticking out in a sweet little pout, he said, “Sorry. I didn’t mean it.”
“Yes, you did.”
“I did, but I love you, so I will continue to lie and tell you that your Raven friends aren’t stupid.”
“Thank you.” She glanced over at the book he was going through. “Bear is going to lose his mind when he realizes you took that book out of the library.”
“Everybody and their mother are in the library right now. Protectors. Holde’s Maids. Even the Silent have deigned to grace us with their annoying presence in a show of support. There’s just too many people for me at one time in one place.” He took her hand, kissed the back of it. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Based on what Stieg just told me . . . I don’t think we have enough time to keep looking. For another option, I mean.” She stopped speaking, taking a moment to get herself under control. Fighting back tears.
He’d been afraid of this. Jace’s idea of a way to destroy Gullveig was brilliant, but it would require almost a sure sacrifice of whoever undertook the quest. But the one thing all Clan members knew that is when they took what their god offered and were branded with their god’s rune . . . sacrifices would have to be made.
And sometimes those sacrifices would be their very lives.
“So,” he said, realizing how hard this was for Jace, “Erin is our only option?”
Tears freely rolled down Jace’s cheeks. “Yes,” she said, nodding, her voice still strong. “Erin is our only option.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
After a long, relaxing shower, Erin sat outside in the Bird House backyard and spent some time drawing on a white pair of Converse. A future birthday gift for one of her sister-Crows.
She’d become infamous among the Clans for her painted and drawn-on Converse. But Erin simply used her talents as an artist and her knowledge of each of her sister-Crows to make them something she knew they’d like. When she’d started doing it, she hadn’t thought much about it, but she’d actually gotten a request from one of the Claws who owned an art gallery near the Santa Monica Pier to do a display of her “work.”
Erin had laughed when she’d gotten the offer, thinking it was just a joke, until she realized the Claw was very serious. He seemed pretty sure he could sell her work for a lot of money.
And if they could put off the end of the world, she could always use the extra cash, so yeah, why not? She had never had a show of her work before. Mostly because people walked away with her art on their body, but it would be nice to know that side of the art world. Or, if not “nice,” at least different. She enjoyed diffe
rent.
Finishing up the Converse with her signature, Erin saw the squirrel sneaking down from the tree. He glanced back and forth several times before he started to make his careful way across the yard. Of course, if this was just any squirrel, she wouldn’t care. She had no problems with squirrels as a species. They were actually kind of cute, despite the fact that they were part of the rodent family and could carry plague.
But this wasn’t just any squirrel. This was Ratatosk. Messenger for the gods. His entire immortal squirrel life was spent causing problems, running back and forth between the eagle at the top of the World Tree and the dragon at the bottom, spreading rumors and insults.
That was one of the reasons Erin was watching him so closely. Yes. He often brought messages to the Clan leaders when information had to spread quickly, but what was he doing now?
Ratatosk wasn’t there to give Chloe an important message. He was up to something. Nothing major. Just being a little dick. Erin should know. She spent most of her days being a little dick and she knew the signs. The furtive eyes. The creeping pace. He was looking to start some shit between Clans.
Something they couldn’t afford right now.
Erin knew she could just go over there and scare him off with a hand wave and a stern, “Get out of here, Ratatosk!”
But, from one little dick to another . . . that seemed unimpressive. So, softly, very softly, Erin gave a whistle.
Not even five seconds later, Kera’s dog came trotting through the open sliding glass doors. Her name was Brodie Hawaii. At one time she’d been a battered and beaten fifty-pound pit bull with half her muzzle gone and her teeth ground down to nubs or pulled out completely. She’d been used for fighting and mating when Kera found the poor animal tied up and left to die in her old neighborhood. Kera had taken Brodie in and had given her the best life she could at the time. Then Kera died and Skuld gave her a chance to become a Crow. Kera said she’d take the offer but not unless Brodie could come with her to her new life.
Poor Kera, at the time she still didn’t understand how gods worked and that the old saying “be careful what you ask for” was invented because of them. Skuld gave her what she asked for. She let Brodie come with Kera into this new life, but not before killing her and remaking her into the first and perhaps only Crow-Dog.
So the pit bull standing beside Erin was no longer the fifty-pound disfigured wreck of an animal that she’d once been, but a one-hundred-pound beautiful pit with all her teeth and fangs and the addition of retractable wings and a steel-enhanced muzzle.
Petting the back of Brodie’s neck, Erin leaned in and whispered, “Look. Look over there. What do you see, girl?”
Brodie’s ears shot up straight, as did her tail. Then she was moving so fast, Erin instinctively leaned back so she didn’t accidentally get hurt.
Ratatosk took off but Brodie was on him in seconds, scooping the little bastard up in her mouth and running all over the yard with her new prize.
Laughing, Erin carefully wrapped the Converse in white tissue paper and returned them to the box they came in.
Kera came outside as Erin got up from the table, the box under her arm.
“Hey. Have you seen—Brodie, no!”
Erin laughed harder.
“You did this, didn’t you?” Kera accused.
“He’ll be fine. He’s immortal. I think.”
“You think? Erin, why? Why?” Kera snarled at her before running after her dog, begging Brodie to drop the squirrel but . . . yeah . . . that wasn’t going to happen unless Kera had something better to offer. And what was better than a struggling, squealing squirrel that no one particularly liked?
Erin was on her way back upstairs when she passed the TV room. Things had been pretty quiet the last few weeks since they’d managed to shove Gullveig out of this world, so the room was packed with her sister-Crows hanging out and killing time until they had something specific to do. As Erin passed, she realized that one of those annoying celebrity news shows was on. She only watched those if everyone was in the mood for mocking, because she always felt the need to mock celebrities. They made it so easy with their bullshit.
But she suddenly stopped when she heard the blond, spray-on tan, Botoxed talking head go on and on about some new club in LA that had just opened and how everyone who was anyone was going to be there. “Tonight.”
Erin thought about that a moment. An opening like that . . . if the owners wanted it to be successful they’d pay someone like Jourdan Ambrosio to be there.
Tucking the box under her arm, Erin pulled out her phone and quickly texted Betty. If there was one woman in Hollywood who could get Erin on a “list,” it was Betty.
As she patiently waited for a response, Brodie charged by with Ratatosk still in her mouth. If Erin didn’t know better, she’d swear that squirrel shook his tiny fist at her in a show of hatred.
A few seconds later, Kera charged by now with several other Crows in tow, all of them trying to help her wrangle her dog.
“Dammit, Erin!” Kera yelled as she ran by.
“What?” Erin asked, taking a step back when she thought Kera was about to circle around just so she could slap the crap out of her. But, thankfully, Kera kept going and Erin got her return text.
You’re in, bitch.
Muchos gracias, senorita!
God, girl! Your Spanish is the worst. Go back to Staten Island!
Laughing, Erin headed up to her room to find the right kind of ridiculous clothes to wear to a stupid club opening so that she could snag the bitch who would worship at the altar of Gullveig.
* * *
Stieg went looking for Erin that night because he knew—deep in his bones, he knew—she’d be out again.
And he was right.
It actually wasn’t as hard to track her down as he’d thought it would be. Karen always talked about the hottest clubs—even though he didn’t care—and he knew Los Angeles like the back of his hand. Especially Hollywood. So, after checking with Karen, he found out about a new club opening and knew—he knew!—that’s where he’d find her.
And that’s exactly where he did find her. Stomping up the street in a cute dress, ridiculous high heels that she was not comfortable walking in, and a tiny black backpack.
He knew the club she was heading for. It might be under new management, but it was one of those joints that had been around for years and years, changed owners more times than he changed the oil in his car, and had seen quite a few rising and current star overdoses in its time.
If Erin was looking for someone famous and in demand with the news rags, this was the place to go.
Stieg made a U-turn and parked his truck on the street. He took big strides to catch up to her and was a few feet away when he saw another car slowly pass from the opposite side of the street. He only noticed it because of the sound. He’d always loved cars and he knew a perfectly maintained but seriously souped-up engine when he heard one. He then noticed the darkened windows. Too dark to be remotely legal.
Once the car passed an oblivious Erin, it went up a little farther then made its own U-turn.
That’s when Stieg began to run, pushing past people in his way.
The car neared Erin and the windows lowered just enough for all those automatic weapons to be trained on the Crow.
Stieg picked up speed, and just as he reached her, Erin spun around. Her eyes widened at the sight of him and her fists jerked up to defend herself. Stieg ignored that and wrapped his arms around her waist, used his body to block hers, and then yanked both of them up and over a seven-foot high wood fence.
They hit the hood of a piece-of-shit car on the other side. One of many since they’d apparently landed in a junkyard. He rolled them off the hood and used the car to block them from the onslaught of gunfire.
When it stopped, he gazed down into Erin’s face and asked, “Is there anyone in the world that’s not trying to kill you?”
* * *
It was really starting to irritate Erin
that the man kept saving her. What was happening? What was going on? She was a Crow, goddammit! She should be able to save herself! “I dealt with the only one from my First Life who wanted me dead,” she replied to his stupid question. “And anyone from this life would never come after me with guns. They’re all demons.”
“Not all of them.”
“The nuns don’t count. They hated me long before I had wings.”
Big sausage fingers suddenly covered Erin’s mouth. “Shhh. I think they’re coming back.” Erin rolled her eyes and Stieg removed his hand from her face. “What?”
“You act like you’re so impressive right now. Like you’ve got super hearing. But with that goddamn muffler on their piece-of-shit car, people in China probably can hear them.”
“That’s a finely tuned—” He stopped himself. Growled. “Instead of arguing, why don’t we try to answer the question of why they’re coming back?”
“To make sure I’m dead?”
“Drive-bys don’t work that way. They shoot, they go. If they miss, they come back another time to finish the job. What you don’t want to do is sit around waiting for the cops to come.”
“Is this knowledge from your previous thug life?”
Stieg growled again and got up until he was crouching over her. “Let’s find out why they’re after you.”
Erin sat up. “And how do we do that? It may be Hollywood, but I’m sure people will notice when a couple of winged warriors come swooping in to deal with the local gangbangers.”
“You’re right.” Stieg stood and Erin followed. “That’s why we need bait.”
“What bai—heyyyy!”
He tossed her back over the fence with an ease Erin found highly disturbing, but she effortlessly landed on all fours, her body used to safely landing from much higher positions. As soon as her body hit the ground, she heard the brakes of her assailants’ car screech and the tires tear up the asphalt as they spun around, cutting off other drivers.
Erin slipped off the high heels she’d worn to help her get into the club and started running. She pushed past all the tourists and the crazy locals running for their lives during the attack or filming on their cameras until she hit a street that led into an alleyway. She turned and a few seconds later heard squealing tires. She turned again, but saw a dead end up ahead. Before she could unleash her wings and take to the skies, she was snatched up and held aloft by a Raven with absolutely no respect for personal boundaries.
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