He shrugged. “Viking.”
Kera reached down and removed the tutu from around Brodie’s narrow hips; she shoved it into Vig’s hands. “Take this. Burn it.”
“You’d let her keep it if it was mithril.”
“If it was mithril,” Kera shot back, “I’d make it into a shirt and wear it to protect me from orcs and trolls trying to run me through with spears. But it’s not mithril.”
Laughing, Vig watched her open the front door. That’s when he asked, “What about the Swarovski crystals?”
Kera glowered at him, opened her mouth to speak, closed it, opened it again, then finally slammed the door in his face.
And still laughing, Vig walked home.
Erin was going to bed when she stopped outside her room. She looked down the hall toward Kera’s room. The door was partially open, light spilling into the hallway.
Erin walked to her door and pushed it open. She saw the dog first. She was asleep on the bed, stretched out from one end to the other of the queen mattress. There was also snoring.
Then Erin focused on Kera. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, furiously writing on a new notepad, which was attached to another clipboard. Where the hell is she getting all these clipboards from?
“Kera?”
“Uh-huh?”
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Just working out some possible schedules. Making a few lists.” She looked up at Erin. “Do you guys have weekly team meetings?”
“Not unless we have to.”
“Really? Huh.” Kera began writing furiously on her notepad again.
“Okay, then . . . ’night,” Erin said, easing out of the room.
“’Night.”
After backing out of the room and softly shutting the door, Erin blew out a breath.
“Leigh’s right,” she muttered to herself as she went back to her own room. “I need to do something about her and do it quick or they’re all gonna kill her.”
Vig stared up at the big hilltop home, crossed his arms over his chest, and slowly turned his glare to his Raven leader.
“Have you lost your mind?” Siggy asked. “Why are we here?”
“Ormi wanted to see me.”
“So?”
“It sounded important.”
“Or it could be a setup.”
“I don’t think it is. Besides”—Josef motioned to Vig—“I brought him.”
Vig didn’t understand that. “What do I have to do with anything?”
Josef began to answer but Vig felt the air around him change the slightest bit. He turned and swung his fist, hitting one of the Protectors who had flown in behind him in the face and sending him flat on his back. As always, none of the Ravens heard the Protectors come up behind them. Like owls, Protectors had wings that allowed them to fly—and hunt—in near silence.
Vig was one of the few Ravens able to sense the slight change in air as they moved in close only because it was a skill passed on through his family line.
A necessary skill since the Protectors were developed by the god Tyr in direct response to the actions of the Ravens and Crows at the time. And because even the gods had a sense of humor, Tyr based his Protectors on the great horned owl . . . the natural predators of Crows and Ravens. At one time, the Protectors did nothing else but hunt and kill Crows and Ravens. It was their only job. But times changed and the purpose of the Protectors shifted to ensuring none of the Clans, official or otherwise, ever became too powerful. In the end, they helped protect the balance of the world. If the Crows and Ravens didn’t threaten that balance, they usually left them alone. But Crows and Ravens forget nothing. Even things that happened more than a thousand years ago.
To this day, Crows were known to still mob Protectors when they thought they were too close to them. It could happen any time and anywhere. More than one football riot in Europe began not because of some overzealous fans but because some Crows spotted a Protector and acted accordingly.
It didn’t help that European Crows and Ravens really loved football.
Vig stared down at the Protector, who was bleeding from his face. He debated what to do and, with a shrug, decided he should probably just kill him. But as he was leaning down to finish him off quickly—he didn’t believe in tormenting people before ending them, that always seemed tacky to him—Josef grabbed Vig’s arm and yanked him back.
“We’re not here to kill anybody.”
“He started it,” Vig pointed out.
“He flew up behind you.”
“He started it.”
Josef sighed, something he did a lot when he was talking to Vig, which was why Vig didn’t understand why Josef wanted to bring him.
Danski “Ski” Eriksen led the Ravens into his leader’s grand library. The Protectors, unlike the Ravens, were thinkers. And every leader had an elaborate library filled to the brim with knowledge. Not only did they have these libraries but every Protector made it his business to know and understand each of the books held within.
Knowledge was the most important thing when it came to keeping balance in the world. Without knowledge there was only anarchy and decay and Clans running out of control. An existence no Protector could tolerate.
Ormi had been Ski’s leader since he’d first arrived for training. He was six at the time. Found by Tyr himself and taken from his family when he was six, Ski had never looked back. Unlike the Ravens and most of the other Clans, one Protector didn’t pass his legacy on to his son. Instead, Tyr chose from anyone he wanted to. Anyone he felt was worthy. In fact, more than one Viking-descended family had children in different Clans, which often made for awkward Thanksgiving dinners. The Clans could be just as contentious with each other as they were to those they considered their enemies. What kept them from outright killing each other was each Clan’s need to barter for items they couldn’t just get from anyone and the fact that some of them were related. Besides, sometimes the Clans really did need each other
In fact, a recent issue that Ormi had just noticed was starting to turn into something that required the assistance and knowledge of more than one Clan. Although why Ormi was involving the Ravens of all Clans, Ski didn’t know.
The Ravens were crass loud dullards who weren’t worthy of the Protectors’ time. They killed first, asked questions later . . . maybe. If they felt like it. And for Josef Alexandersen to bring his head killer with him to meet with Ormi was the highest of insults as far as Ski was concerned.
He glanced back at Vig Rundstöm before walking into the library. Personally, he wouldn’t allow the man to sully the hallowed halls of this sacred space, but it wasn’t his decision. Ormi led the Southern California Protectors. He made all the decisions and Ski would never question him.
“They’re here,” Ski said by way of introduction.
Ormi smirked at him. They’d worked together long enough for Ormi to know exactly what Ski thought of the Ravens.
Ormi leaned back in his chair, green eyes looking over the Ravens. “I see you brought your pit bull,” he noted, staring at Rundstöm.
The slow-witted Raven pointed at himself. “Wait . . . who? Me?”
Already disgusted—and they’d just gotten there—Ski went around Ormi’s chair and stood behind him. He wouldn’t let anything happen to his leader. Not while he had breath in his body.
Ormi sighed. “Thank the gods you have a talent in blacksmithing, boy. Otherwise, I don’t know how you’d survive.”
“You called us here so you can insult us?” Alexandersen asked.
“I didn’t call them anywhere. I called you, Raven Leader.”
“Ormi, just get on with it. I don’t have time for this Old World bullshit.” He winked at Siggy Kaspersen and added, “I gotta date.”
“When your ex finds out about that stripper . . .” Kaspersen sighed out.
Stieg Engstrom laughed. “You are dead where you stand.”
“Are you idiots done?” Ormi snapped.
The Ravens slowly looked
down at Ormi, heads tilting as they examined him.
Not liking that, Ski cracked his knuckles and he immediately had the four Ravens staring at him.
“Nice glasses, Poindexter,” Engstrom sneered.
“Aw, dude, don’t pick on him,” Kaspersen said with all sincerity. “He could be blind.” Then Kaspersen raised his arm and began waving his hand in Ski’s direction. It took a second to realize that he was trying to figure out if Ski was blind.
But . . . but Ski had led them in here. He could obviously see them!
Rolf Landvik slapped Kaspersen’s hand down before looking back to his phone, and Ormi tried again.
“What I have to say to you, Raven Leader, is very important.”
“Then say it.”
“There’s been a considerable uptick in human sacrifices.”
Again, the Ravens stared at Ormi with that blank bird-like stare until Engstrom asked, “So?”
Horrified, Ormi snapped, “What do you mean ‘so’?”
“He means,” Rolf replied while texting away with his thumbs, “that in troubled times, there is always an uptick in zealous religious fervor. Some join established religions but others join sects that practice human sacrifice. This isn’t exactly a shock.”
“Except none of this seems to have anything to do with the world as we currently know it,” Ormi patiently explained. “Instead, all these sacrifices seem to be an attempt to raise one thing.”
The texting slowly came to a pause and the dim-witted Ravens refocused on Ormi.
“Raise what?” Alexandersen asked.
“We’re not sure. But let me ask you . . .” Ormi rested his elbows on the desk and leaned in a bit to look at each and every Raven in the room. “Have any of you been having nightmares . . . ?”
CHAPTER NINE
Erin only got about two hours of sleep, but that was fine because she had a lot of things to get done today.
After a super-quick shower, she glanced at her watch. Then she scooped up her cell phone and made the call. After that was done, she went down the hall to Kera’s room. She knocked once and pushed the door open without waiting for her to answer. Unlike most of the Crows, who hated when Erin did that, Kera just glanced up from tying her sneaker and said¸ “Hey. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I came up with some great ideas yesterday for a regular combat training schedule, which takes into account everyone’s busy lifestyles.”
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Not only did this woman not startle easily, but she was determined to find a way to turn the Crows into her own little Marine unit.
Erin thought about the call she’d just made. She really needed this to work or the other Crows were going to beat the girl to death.
“Wings come out yet?” Erin asked, ignoring Kera’s statement.
“No. Why?”
Erin just frowned a bit, shook her head. “No reason. Nothing to worry about.”
As she expected, Kera stood straight and stared at Erin. “What do you mean, nothing to worry about?”
“Just what I said.”
“If there was nothing to worry about, then why say there’s nothing to worry about? People only say that when there is something to worry about.”
With the trap snapped, Erin merely frowned, shook her head, forced a smile that included wincing, and muttered, “I’m sure it’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it.”
“Don’t worry about what?”
“Just relax!” Erin insisted. “I’m sure your wings will come out . . . eventually.”
“And if they don’t?”
She winced again. “There could be a little infection problem.”
“Infection?”
“Yeah. But we’ll be able to tell before it gets to that point.”
“How?”
“The area gets really red. There will be lumpy spots. Tenderness. Maybe a little pus oozing from—”
“Pus?”
“But don’t worry about that!” Erin said quickly. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. Just keep an eye on it.”
Before Kera could ask her anything else, Erin walked out of the room and closed the door behind her.
By the time she reached the first floor, she could hear tires screeching in front of the house. She glanced at her watch again, impressed by the time he’d made. He must really like her.
A few seconds later, the front door slammed open, and Vig Rundstöm stormed into the house.
“Thank God you’re here,” Erin said. “She’s in her room. I think it’s a panic attack, but—”
“What room?”
Erin pointed up the stairs. “Third floor, down that hallway. Last door on the right.”
He charged up the stairs and Erin yelled after him, “Just go in. She’s not answering the door!”
Satisfied when she heard him moving even faster, Erin headed into the kitchen, where a small group of Crows were eating breakfast, including her strike team.
“What the hell was all that?” Tessa asked.
Erin shrugged and reached for one of the chocolate-glazed donuts from the box on the table. “Just taking care of something.”
Annalisa smirked. “Jesus Christ, what did you do now?”
“Well—” Erin began, but her words were cut off by a short scream, followed by breaking glass. They all focused on the big window by the table that looked out over the yard. Kera’s dog was out there taking a break, but when glass began to fall, the dog moved with some serious speed, dashing out of the way moments before Vig landed hard on the grass, his arms protectively around a topless Kera—her wings out and unfurled.
Tessa let out a sigh, then she and the other Crows looked back at Erin.
Nearly finished with that donut, Erin shrugged. “She needed her wings to come out. I got ’em out.”
“He’s not really moving,” Maeve noted.
“Fuck.” Tessa pushed away from her morning coffee—something that never sat well with her when it happened—and walked out of the kitchen, the rest of the Crows behind her.
And, after licking the chocolate glaze off her fingers, Erin followed.
Kera didn’t know what had happened. One second she was standing in front of the bedroom mirror, her T-shirt tossed on the bed, trying to check her naked back for lumps and pus and whatever else that idiot redhead had warned her about, and the next . . .
Well, he’d just walked in, hadn’t he? And they’d both been shocked. Kera staring at Vig and Vig staring at Kera’s tits. It was like he’d been mesmerized.
The whole thing had surprised her so much that Kera had gasped and tried to cover her breasts with her arms. At the same moment, she’d felt a searing pain in her back, blood flew, and suddenly—she was flying. Backward. And out the bedroom window.
Having no idea how to make those wings work, Kera just fell like a rock, her arms swinging out wildly, her legs kicking. Then big arms wrapped around her and she was pulled into Vig’s chest. He’d turned them both in midair so that he was on the bottom . . . and bam! They hit the ground hard.
The whole thing felt like it took hours to happen, so Kera was able to remember every detail. But nope. All this mayhem in about twenty seconds, if that.
Kera planted her elbows on Vig’s massive chest and pushed herself up enough so that she could look down at his face.
“Vig?”
It took a few seconds but then he said, “I’m okay.”
“You don’t sound okay.”
“Just need . . . to . . . get . . . breath back.” He opened his eyes, gave her a small smile. “Fine. I’m fine.”
“You can’t keep saving my life,” she told him. “It leads to an unbalanced relationship.”
“I didn’t save your life.” He took a breath, finally able to breathe a little easier. “You would have survived the fall. But you might have been paralyzed from the neck down, which I was pretty sure you didn’t want.”
“Good call.”
“At least your wings are out,” he said.
“My . . .�
� Kera looked over one shoulder, then the other. And yes, there they were.
They were big and long, stretching out from her back. The feathers seemed to be a mix of black, blues, and purples, the morning sun glistening off an unsettling amount of wetness. Blood, maybe?
“Wow,” Kera sighed. “Just . . . wow.”
“They look good on you.”
“Thanks.”
“Are you two okay?”
Kera finally turned her gaze away from the wonder of her wings and focused on Tessa and the other Crows surrounding her and Vig.
“I think so,” Kera replied. “But Vig is bleeding.”
“So are you,” Annalisa noted.
“What?”
“On your back. It looks like the glass from the window cut you.”
“I can take care of that inside,” Tessa said, leaning over to get a look.
Kera shook her head. “I don’t know what happened.”
“I do,” Vig growled, his gaze suddenly focusing on Erin Amsel.
“What are you talking about?” Kera asked.
“She tricked me. Told me you were having some kind of PTSD breakdown just to get me here. And when she sent me up to your room, she told me not to knock. Just walk in.”
Amsel shrugged her shoulders. “I had to get your wings out somehow. This seemed like the easiest way.”
Kera felt anger well up in her. An anger she hadn’t felt in years, not since she’d joined the Marines and didn’t have to live with her mother one more second. The difference here, though, was that she’d always controlled that early anger because her mother was unstable. To react to anything her mother did with anger would often prompt an even worse reaction. So Kera always buried her anger.
But now, here, with these women . . . she didn’t feel the need to do that anymore.
“Kera?” She heard Vig, but she couldn’t respond to him. Her focus was on Amsel and Amsel only.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Kera growled as she pushed herself off Vig and to her feet.
“Look, don’t make this into a big deal,” Amsel said, her attitude one of annoyance. As if Kera was just being a drama queen about it all. “Because it’s really not.”
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