The Unyielding

by Shelly Laurenston

  “Where do you think?” Stieg asked, stopping briefly to grab his keys and open the door. “To kidnap Erin.”

  Then he was gone, the door slamming shut behind him.

  Rolf shoveled another mouthful of Raisin Bran into his mouth before mumbling, “Should we be concerned about that?”

  “Probably,” Vig replied, reaching for another box of Frosted Flakes.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  After a shower to get the scent of Stieg Engstrom off her skin, Erin sat on the front steps of the Bird House, taking a minute to get her thoughts in order. It was at times like this—when she was kind of confused and unsure—that she said things that did nothing but piss everyone off.

  Wanting to avoid that, especially when Jace and Kera were kind of at their emotional peaks, she’d come out here to sit and relax. That lasted a total of thirty seconds before she was already so bored she could cry. She was just getting up to go inside and find something to do when her phone rang.

  Pulling it out of the back pocket of her black jeans, Erin paused a moment to stare at the front of the phone in confusion. She finally answered. “Ma?”

  “Hi, baby. How are you? I had a dream.”

  Erin rolled her eyes and smiled at the same time. “Oh, no,” she said flatly. “Not a dream.”

  “Don’t mock. My dreams are very prophetic.”

  “No they’re not.”

  “No they’re not!” her father yelled in the background. “I told her not to call you!”

  “Shut up, Hersch!”

  Laughing, Erin sat back down on the step. “Ma, everything’s fine,” she lied.

  “Don’t lie to your mother. Why do you always insist on lying to your mother?”

  “Because it usually works in the moment.”

  “Well, it’s not going to work now. My dream was very telling. Wasn’t it, Hersch?”

  “No, it wasn’t.”

  “What was your dream, Ma?”

  “Well, I don’t remember exactly.”

  “Oh, my God.”

  “But I woke up very concerned.”

  “Of course you did.”

  “Listen to you. Just like your father. Judging.”

  “Because,” her father barked in the background, “when my daughter hears insanity, she’s been taught to judge!”

  And people wondered why Erin was the way she was. Yet how could she be anything else when she had wonderful, amazing, ridiculous parents like these?

  “I just want to make sure you’re okay. Is that too much for a mother to ask?”

  “Ma, I’m fine.”

  “You don’t sound fine.”

  “In what way do I not sound fine?”

  “A mother knows.”

  “Oy.”

  “Don’t oy me.”

  Erin didn’t know what to say to her mother. She didn’t want to lie to her, but it wasn’t like she could be honest either. Yeah, Ma, I have to go into the pits of the universe and wrestle a flaming sword from a hateful dragon and, if I manage not to get killed doing that, challenge a pissed-off goddess to a fight.

  That was not something a child could say to a mother who cared. It had been hard enough when Erin had come back as Crow. It was something she couldn’t tell her mother the truth about, so she’d come up with some bullshit excuse to explain why she would be spending the rest of her life in Los Angeles.

  A place that, at one time, Erin had said she’d rather set herself on fire than ever move to. Of course, when she’d come to Los Angeles, it had only been because she’d been on the run. It had never occurred to her she’d get killed here and decide to stay.

  Her sister-Crows had even been nice enough to find her a place with the Tri-State Crows, but by then Erin had already experienced a Christmas season in cut-off shorts and bikini tops. Going back to face a Northeast winter became something she never really wanted to deal with again.

  So there she was. In Los Angeles. Loving every minute of it, but missing her parents. They were great. And hilarious. And just goddamn ridiculous. Everything Erin adored in life.

  “I can see you’re not going to tell me.”

  “There’s nothing to tell,” Erin replied.

  And, in the background, her father yelled, “There’s nothing to tell, woman!”

  “Who asked you?”

  “You did! All morning! You were going to call her before the sun was even up on that coast!”

  “Oh, look at you, Hersch Amsel. The great traveler!”

  While her parents bickered, as they loved to do, Erin watched Stieg’s big black pickup truck park in front of the house.

  He got out and walked around the enormous vehicle, looking delicious. Jeans hanging off narrow hips. A dark blue sweatshirt, with the sleeves cut off, hanging loose to his waist. Blue and white sneakers on his feet. His hair tousled and a little damp.

  He took the steps two at a time until he was right in front of her.

  Erin smiled up at him, ready to greet him, until he suddenly reached down, grabbed her waist, and tossed her over his shoulder.

  “Hey! Engstrom! What the fuck are you doing?”

  “Erin?” her mother snapped. “Erin, what’s going on? Who is Engstrom? What is an Engstrom?”

  “Uh . . .”

  The front door to the Bird House opened and a sister-Crow peered out, eyes widening when she saw Stieg carrying Erin down the stairs. “Oh, shit.” She turned toward the house. “We have a Code Odin, ladies! Code Odin! Kera, you better get up here!”

  They quickly reached Stieg’s truck, Erin’s mother barking in Erin’s ear, her father joining her in the background.

  “Ma, I gotta go.”

  “Erin Amsel, don’t you dare hang up this phone! What’s happening? Whatever you do,” her mother blathered on, “don’t let them take you to a secondary location! Never let them take you to a secondary location!”

  “Call the cops!” her father ordered.

  “No! Don’t,” Erin ordered back.

  Stieg shoved Erin inside his truck.

  “I’m just being kidnapped by a Viking.”

  “You know, Erin Aliza Amsel, you are not funny.”

  Stieg walked around the truck, and that’s when they attacked. Not her sisters. The birds. Swirling around Stieg, until he bellowed, “That is enough!”

  The birds scattered, landing in the trees surrounding the house.

  Erin shook her head, chuckling. “Ma, I gotta go.”

  “You sure you’re all right?”

  “I’m fine. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “We love you, baby.”

  “I love you, too, Ma.”

  Erin disconnected the phone just as Stieg got into his truck. He hadn’t turned off the motor, so he put it into DRIVE and pulled off.

  Her sisters were just coming down the stairs toward them, yelling at Stieg to stop . . . but he just kept going.

  Erin settled back into the seat.

  “You’re not going to complain?” he asked.

  “Nope. I can tell.”

  “Tell what?”

  “That you’re madly in love with me.”

  “Oh, shut up.”

  * * *

  The Crows stood on the driveway watching Stieg’s truck barrel away.

  “Shouldn’t we go after them?” Leigh asked.

  Chloe shook her head. “No. Stieg would never hurt her.”

  “Didn’t he stab her in the kidney once?”

  “No. She fell on his knife during a fight.” Chloe shrugged. “It was a lucky shot. Tessa?” she said to her second in command.

  Tessa whistled at the birds in the trees and several took off after Stieg’s truck.

  “If there’s any real problem,” Chloe said, already heading back inside, “the crows will let us know.”

  “Yeah, but”—Jace cringed a little—“are you sure we shouldn’t be worried?”

  Chloe stopped walking and faced her sisters. “About Erin? Or about Stieg?”

  There was a pause, th
en they all replied in unison, “About Stieg.”

  * * *

  As Stieg drove, he realized he had no idea where he was going. He just knew he had to get Erin away from all those who would harm her. He hadn’t thought beyond that. It bothered him. It was something his father would do. Go on emotion only. Stieg was smarter than that. Mostly because his brain hadn’t been completely pickled by liquor.

  He glanced at Erin sitting beside him. She was being very quiet and very cooperative. It made him uneasy. Erin was rarely cooperative and never quiet.

  Her phone vibrated in the back pocket of her jeans and she answered. He assumed it was one of her sister-Crows, wanting to make sure she was okay, but her body suddenly tensed.

  “Right. I understand. Your address? Yeah. Got it.” She disconnected the call and began to put an address into his truck’s GPS.

  “What are you doing?”

  “We need to go here.”

  “Why?”

  Erin leaned back in her seat and for once, looked deadly serious in a way he could never remember seeing her. She flatly replied, “Because I told you to.”

  And for once, Stieg didn’t argue. He just followed the GPS’s direction to the small house in Pasadena.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  They pulled up to the small house and parked right in front. Erin stared at the door for a moment before telling Stieg, “Stay here. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  She didn’t wait for an answer, since he wasn’t exactly a chatty fellow, and stepped out. She closed the door and started across the quiet suburban street toward the house. No. She really didn’t want to do this, even though her curiosity was practically eating her alive. But what could be waiting for her here? Should she go in that house? Was she making a mistake? For once, Erin felt insecure. She rarely did. One had to have a high level of confidence when permanently marking someone’s skin with ink. And it was that same confidence that led her through life in general. Always had. Still, maybe this was a mistake. Maybe she should—

  Erin stopped in the middle of the street and turned. Stieg stood right behind her.

  Frowning, she wondered if she’d actually told him to wait or not. She had a lot on her mind . . . so maybe not. “Wait in the car. I shouldn’t be too long. Make sure your phone’s on. I’ll call you if there’s a problem.”

  Without answering, he gazed down at her and she turned back around and walked to the house. She pushed the small white gate open, walked down the path surrounded by a very neat lawn and garden. She went up the stairs to the porch and knocked on the front door.

  When it opened, Jace’s grandmother stared at Erin.

  Jace called her grandmother Nëna and, since no one knew her actual name, the rest of the Crows called her that as well. Although Erin didn’t call her anything because she disliked the woman so much. She’d managed to do to Erin what very few people had ever managed . . . scare the crap out of her.

  She was a tiny woman, maybe five feet, if that. But her tiny size hid a tremendous amount of power. Mystical power. The kind that Erin had only seen in very high-level witches. But unlike those witches, Nëna had no loyalty to any god or gods. She had no loyalty to any power higher than herself. The only loyalty she seemed to have was to her family.

  And Erin wasn’t family. Not as far as Jace’s grandmother was concerned.

  “I told you to come alone,” Nëna reminded her, her expression already annoyed. And Erin hadn’t even set foot inside yet.

  “I didn’t—” She let out a breath and looked over her shoulder.

  Yup. Stieg Engstrom stood behind her. Idiot.

  “I told you to wait in the car.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then why didn’t you?”

  “I never said I would.”

  Erin, realizing she had a very stubborn Viking standing behind her, faced the old woman again. “You said don’t bring Jace or the other Crows. I didn’t. He’s not a Crow.”

  Shrewd blue eyes sized Stieg up. “He ain’t much human, either.”

  “Depends on who you talk to. Now you going to let me in or what?”

  Nëna waited another moment, like she was actually debating letting Erin into her home. But, finally, she stepped back, and gestured with a wave of her hand.

  Stieg followed, stopping briefly to wipe his big feet on the welcome mat that read NO SOLICITATION. Yes. Very welcoming.

  He nodded at Nëna as he walked into the house. “Ma’am. Nice to see you again.”

  “I know you?”

  “Apparently not, but that’s okay. I’m friends with your granddaughter.”

  Nëna didn’t seem to care as she closed the front door and passed the pair, heading deeper into the house.

  As they began to follow, Erin muttered to Stieg, “Suck up.”

  “It’s called being polite,” he softly replied. “You should try it some time.”

  Nëna led them into the living room filled with men who smoked cigars and talked to each other in a language Erin didn’t understand but was sure Jace would. The men kept talking until Stieg walked in. Then they fell silent and stared at him, gazes distrusting and definitely dangerous.

  Erin knew in that moment, every one of these men was armed. Not with guns or knives but both, and more than one of each.

  Nëna said something to them in their language and motioned the men away with a wave of her hand.

  Still staring at Stieg, silent warning in their blue eyes, they all left.

  “My sons and grandsons don’t think you can be trusted, Raven,” Nëna scoffed. “You are a Raven, right?” At Stieg’s nod, she added, “Little do they know”—she suddenly pointed at Erin—“you’re the one who can’t be trusted.”

  “Me?” Erin asked, incredulous. “Let us not forget, old woman, that any problem you have with me . . . you started it.”

  Stieg shook his head at Erin. “Is that your excuse for everything?”

  “In this case it’s absolutely true!”

  * * *

  Stieg didn’t know how much longer he could keep Erin Amsel alive. Apparently there was no one in this universe that the woman wouldn’t challenge. Including a very serene-looking old woman whom, from what Stieg had heard, even Lucifer feared.

  But that didn’t stop Erin from calling Jace’s grandmother “old woman.”

  Unused to seeing Erin Amsel actually angry, Stieg decided he had to intervene earlier than usual, stepping between the two glaring women and saying, “Before this turns ugly, I suggest you tell us why you called us here, Mrs. Bashir.”

  “She didn’t call you anywhere,” Erin harshly reminded him. Wow, she is really angry. “I told you to wait in the fucking car.”

  “And I told you I ignored you. Get over it.”

  “You two done?” the old woman barked. “And don’t call me Mrs. Bashir.”

  “But . . . isn’t that your name?” Stieg asked.

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Old woman then?”

  Stieg closed his eyes, frustrated, and reached over to cover Erin’s face with his hand and pull her behind him, stupidly using his body as a shield.

  “Since you say you’re Jace’s friend, you can call me Nëna like the others.”

  “Oy,” Erin growled behind his hand.

  “And you,” Nëna said, leaning to the side to catch a glimpse of Erin, “why are you still here?”

  Erin pulled Stieg’s hand away from her face. “In what sense?”

  Stieg faced her. “In what sense?”

  “Do you know what she means?”

  Stieg was going to answer “yes” until he realized that he actually didn’t know what Jace’s grandmother meant. She had invited Erin to her house, so that couldn’t be what she meant. “In what sense?” he finally asked.

  Nëna rolled her eyes. “The pair of you. Neither much brighter than the other.”

  Erin, fed up, walked off, heading back toward the front of the house. But she only got a few steps before she abruptly sto
pped.

  He watched her try to move her legs, attempting to lift one, then the other, but Stieg knew that she couldn’t. From feet to knees, she was frozen in place.

  “Old woman,” Erin snarled, her voice low, her body struggling to be free, “release me or—”

  “Or what?” Nëna asked, circling Erin. “What will you do, Crow?”

  Erin’s hand shot out, spinning Nëna around before yanking her close and wrapping her right arm against the front of Nëna’s neck and her left pushing against the back.

  Stieg moved quickly, grabbing Erin’s wrist and yanking her arm back. She could move freely now; Nëna’s spell broken; but having been in fights with Erin before, Stieg knew he had to get her away from not only Nëna but himself.

  “Never get between a Crow and her prey,” his father used to say. Probably the only good advice the man had ever given him.

  Still twisting Erin’s arm, he tossed her across the room, sending her flipping into a table filled with framed family pictures. Everything crashed to the floor, including Erin, and the sound of heavy footsteps running toward them had Stieg quickly kneeling beside Nëna as she choked and worked to get her breath back. He wasn’t afraid to admit, he was kind of using her as a human shield—a move he knew was the right one when the woman’s sons and grandsons and grandnephews and whatever other male relatives she had stormed back into the room, weapons out and ready.

  “Are you all right?” Stieg asked her, pretending not to see the men, knowing eye contact at that moment would just get him shot or stabbed.

  Rubbing her throat, she glowered up at him but still took Stieg’s outstretched hand. “Get me up, boy.”

  He helped Nëna stand and she slowly faced her kin. “Get out,” she ordered.

  “Yeah, but—” one of them began.

  “Out!”

  Their eyes quickly looking away from her, the men left without another word.

  That was her power. Those were not men who, in their daily lives, knew fear.

  But they feared her, which meant so should Stieg and Erin.

  Erin struggled to her feet, and Stieg winced when he realized that he’d accidentally yanked her arm from its socket.