by Nick Harrow
That, of course, was a lie. But Bogie did have some idea where the spear was. The Behemoth had lived in the Luxor right up until Odin’s pawn had broken the pyramid. The spear had to be on the south end of the Strip, somewhere.
The leader of the jötunn gang eyeballed Bogie as he chewed thoughtfully on the offering of meat. He gulped down a bloody mouthful, then gave a slow nod. “All right,” the creature said. “We’ll take a field trip with you. But if we don’t find anything, I’ll cut your cock off and feed it to you.”
The spark of fear that threat ignited was quickly extinguished by the excitement Bogie felt. He’d find the dickhead who’d stolen the spear. And then they’d tear the fucker’s head off and reclaim the spear. Hyrrokkin would visit him again, he just knew it. And then he’d be the big boss.
BRIDGET FOLDED THE note she’d scribbled and tucked it between Gunnar’s big hand and his chest. The urge to lean down and kiss him almost overwhelmed her. The völva hoped the words she’d written would help him understand why she’d left. She wanted him to know that she loved him, would always love him, but her dreams had shown her a road she had to walk alone.
It was the only way to stop Hyrrokkin.
Even if it killed her.
The völva let out a long, slow breath and double-checked the knots she’d made in the Wyrd. The process had been difficult, but her weaving had held. None of her sister witches or her jarl had awoken while she wrote her note by the light of the LED lantern. She only needed it to hold a little longer, until she was too far away for them to find and stop her.
The trapdoor opened with a faint creak, and she lowered the folding ladder through the opening. Her ears pricked up, straining to hear any sounds below her. But nothing stirred in the casino, and her family lay quiet, dreaming of better days.
Bridget thanked Freya for the strength she’d given her völva and lowered herself through the hole in the floor. She landed on her toes, pushed the door back up where it belonged, then froze in place to make sure no jötunn lurked in the early morning gloom. But the shafts of gray light that filtered through the casino’s broken windows showed her no enemies.
Of course, there weren’t. Bridget had seen this version of the future and worked feverishly to knot it in place while the others slept. It would have been easier to do with Rayleigh’s and Mimi’s help, but the völva could never ask them to do that. They would have tried to stop her.
And she couldn’t let them do that. Her mission was too important.
Darkness was coming. Even if they recovered Draupnir in the coming battle, the fight for Midgard was only beginning. Their struggles these past days were only the first skirmish in a war that would turn the Earth upside down. A time of darkness and cold lay ahead. Killing Arthur would slow its approach and give them time to build out the lodge, but the tide of chaos couldn’t be held at bay forever. Not even Odin Allfather had that power.
The völva followed a path she’d seen in the vision that Freya had sent to her, tracing a route out of the casino, through a side exit, and on the first steps of a journey that would take her hours to complete. She really, really wished she knew how this all ended. She hadn’t been able to see all the way to the end of her future. The vision had abruptly ended after showing her captured by jötnar.
She didn’t know what that meant, but she knew it had to happen if Gunnar was to have any chance of finding the ring. Because the jötnar had their own völva, and she’d hidden Draupnir so well Mimi wouldn’t be able to see it.
She sang snatches of Everclear’s Santa Monica to herself in a whispery, thready voice. She hadn’t heard that song in ages, and it brought a smile to her lips. Despite everything, Bridget still found joy in the simple things. A snatch of music, the feel of Gunnar’s hands on her body, the spears of early morning sunlight that picked sparks of light from the broken glass and burned facades of the Strip.
Even the knife strapped to her inner thigh felt right. Bridget had swiped the weapon and its narrow scabbard from Deke’s when everyone else was playing with their guns. She didn’t know why, but she’d been sure she’d need it.
At some point.
“You’re doing the right thing,” a woman’s strong voice said, so close to Bridget she nearly jumped out of her skin.
Freya was only a few feet to her left. Her eyes sparkled in the early morning light, and an impish grin quirked her lips.
“You scared the shit out of me,” Bridget snapped. “I should—”
“Shhh.” Freya raised a finger to her lips. “Don’t wake the babies. They need their sleep.”
A tangle of jötnar lay in the street, five males wrapped around a female as tall as Gunnar. One monster suckled at her enormous breasts, black milk drooling from the corner of his mouth to form a sticky puddle in the hollow of his throat. The beasts were less than twenty feet away from Bridget. If they woke up, she’d never escape them.
“This way,” Freya whispered, and guided her into the shelter of a row of palm trees. When they’d put some distance between them and the jötnar, she put a hand on Bridget’s shoulder. “Do you trust me?”
Bridget considered the question. Freya had come to her on the night Gunnar had rescued them all from the madness. While the fever burned in Bridget, the goddess had sent her a vision and showed her a path that would lead her to more than mere survival. Freya had promised Bridget an important part to play in the war for Midgard.
“I trust that you’re doing what you think is right,” Bridget said with a frown. “But I wish I’d known how this would end when I decided to join the team. Something tells me this will really suck.”
Freya laughed softly. “Your fate is still undecided, Bridget. I am sorry your road has been difficult. It will only get harder. But what you’re doing is our only chance to stop Hyrrokkin.”
“You’re the chief völva, right?” Bridget asked.
The goddess pointed out another group of jötnar and guided Bridget onto a side road. “Some say I am the first völva. Why?”
“All of this.” Bridget shrugged. “I mean, I wouldn’t have to stick my neck in the noose if the bad guys didn’t have a völva who hid Draupnir, right? It would have been a lot easier if you’d just, you know, not let the jötnar have witches of their own.”
Freya’s eyes twinkled as she considered the question. She put a hand on the völva’s shoulder, then pulled her in for a fierce hug that took Bridget’s breath away. The völva smelled crisp pine boughs and felt a cold wash of winter wind over her face.
“My child,” the goddess whispered, “did you stop to think that maybe having a witch in Arthur’s ranks was exactly what you’d need?”
The goddess held Bridget at arm’s length for a moment, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “You have done well, daughter. Now I must go. Your escort is here.”
A gust of freezing wind blasted across Bridget, and she blinked and raised one hand defensively. When she could see again, the goddess was gone.
In her place was a squad of jötnar, their leader pointing a golden gun at Bridget’s chest.
“Well, well, well,” the towering monster said. “Look at what we found, boys. We figured all the humans were either dead or smart enough to keep their heads down.”
Bridget steeled herself for what came next. She knew what she had to say, but the words stuck in her throat. She struggled against tears. The völva couldn’t break down. Not now. She blew out a deep sigh, stiffened her spine, and stared at the jötunn.
“I need to speak to Arthur,” she said resolutely.
The leader of the jötnar frowned, puzzled. “Come on now, you sexy thing, don’t be like that. Talk to Bogie. If you’ve got something interesting to say, I’ll give it to Arthur. After we finish with you.”
A cold chill settled in Bridget’s gut, and she had to stop herself from reaching for the knife. No, it wasn’t time. Not yet.
The naked lust in the jötunn’s eyes made her want to vomit. Instead, she held her ground. “No,” she said. �
��What I have is for your master’s ears, only.”
The jötunn leered at her and shook his head. “You’re a fine piece of tail, I’ll give you that. But I don’t have a master. I found you, so finders, keepers. Now get on your knees and—”
“I can give you Gunnar,” Bridget said, her voice cold and hard as deep winter ice. “But I won’t tell anyone but Arthur. Take me to him. I’m sure he’ll reward you for delivering his enemy into his hands.”
The jötunn eyeballed Bridget for a long moment. He pulled the hammer back on his ridiculous pistol and took a step forward. “If you’re lying,” Bogie said, “I’ll feed you to my crew. One screaming piece at a time.”
“I don’t lie,” Bridget said, glaring at the jötunn. “You’ll see.”
Chapter 23
GUNNAR WOKE FROM A dreamless sleep, the Valknut cold as ice in its socket. Something was wrong.
He bolted upright from where he’d slept on the plywood floor. A scrap of paper fluttered out of his hand, and he snatched it out of the air. The Valknut let him see the writing in the darkness. Every loop and curve of the letters burned into his memory as he read the message.
“This is the only way,” he read silently. “I couldn’t let you stop me. Come find me, and you’ll find Draupnir.”
The bottom fell out of Gunnar’s stomach. Bridget had sneaked out of their hiding place at some point. He didn’t know how long ago or where she was headed. The völva could be anywhere. He cursed and crumpled the paper in his enormous fist.
“What’s wrong,” Mimi asked from the bed beside Ray.
“Bridget’s gone,” Gunnar choked out.
“No way,” she said. “If the jötnar had come up here we would’ve—”
“It’s not them,” he sighed. “She left a note.”
Ray sat up. She blinked sleep from her eyes and peered blearily at Gunnar. “Did you say Bridget’s gone?”
The bodyguard gathered his clothes and sat down to shove his legs into his pants. “We have to find her. Now.”
The völva scrambled over to Gunnar and helped him dress. Mimi busied herself with his moccasins while Ray found his shirt and slipped it over his head. He grabbed his spear from where it lay next to the mattress. He wanted to rush out of their hiding place and find Bridget, but he had no clue where she’d had gone, or how long ago she’d left. A pang of guilt flared up inside him. Now he knew how Ray had felt. “Can you find her?” he asked the women.
His pulse hammered out a war march in his ears. The urge to storm out of their hiding place and tear the Strip down in search of Bridget blossomed inside him like a poisonous fruit. If anything had happened to her, the jarl would build a bonfire of jötnar that would reach the heavens.
Mimi and Ray exchanged uncertain glances. “Maybe,” Ray said. “It’ll be a lot harder with just two of us. We should head to the lodge. It’s a place of power. The visions are clearer there.”
Gunnar didn’t like that plan. He ground his teeth in frustration. “We can’t waste that much time. Bridget is out there, alone. We have to find her. Now.”
Ray put a hand on his chest and looked up into his eyes. “Babe, slow down. We’re worried, too. But if we go out there in berzerko mode, we won’t make it far before one of those trolls spots us and a war band shows up.”
The jarl didn’t care about danger. If an ocean of jötnar flooded toward him, he’d split it with his spear.
“You have to upgrade the lodge,” Mimi piped in. “Maybe there’ll be something there that can help us find Bridget. Then we’ll go cut off some jötunn dicks and get her back.”
Ray nodded in agreement. “The girl’s gotta point, babe. Let’s get back to the lodge and regroup. We won’t help Bridget if we go off half cocked.”
Gunnar blew out a frustrated sigh. He needed to do something to help the missing völva. But as much as he hated to admit it, Ray and Mimi were right. He did need to upgrade the lodge after activating the new blood rune, and he should check to see if Deke had made it there safely. “Okay,” he said. “Back to the lodge it is.”
While Mimi and Ray got dressed, Gunnar gathered up their weapons. The AA-12 had changed into a crossbow, and the MP5s were both hand axes now. The changes affecting Vegas were accelerating. It wouldn’t be long before they were back to swords and arrows.
The trio left through the casino’s garage exit to avoid the Strip. It was still early in the morning, but the jötnar were already stirring. Wordless shouts rose in the distance, and rhythmic metallic crashes, like someone banging on a car hood with a hammer or a wrench, answered them. Gunnar realized these weren’t just random noises. The jötnar were communicating with one another. He wondered how many gangs like the Behemoth’s were out there and realized just how lucky he and the völva had been that none of those creatures had taken up residence in New York-New York. They’d have to be more careful from now on.
The journey back to the lodge was slow and nerve-wracking. Jötnar patrols roamed the streets, searching for something.
Or someone.
Gungnir throbbed in Gunnar’s hand every time they spotted the monsters, eager to destroy them. And while Gunnar knew a lightning storm could take out any of the patrols, the noise would just attract more enemies. It would be a glorious death to go down slaughtering hordes of jötnar, but that wouldn’t save Bridget. That mission required speed and stealth.
Stealth he could manage, but speed had become a problem. The patrols grew denser as the sun climbed higher in the sky. Gunnar found they had to backtrack more often to avoid their enemies. That cost them time they couldn’t afford to lose, and the jarl worried the roaming monsters would box them in. He pulled the völva into the shadow of a home that had nearly completed its transformation into a timber-walled longhouse. “Mimi,” he whispered, “it’s time to shine. Can your powers guide us around the patrols?”
The völva looked off into the distance, her eyes narrowed in concentration. “I can, like I did in the Luxor. But we’ll have to be careful. If I run out of juice, I’ll be useless.”
“I’ll keep it brief,” Gunnar promised. “Let me have it.”
Mimi and Ray leaned back against the nearest building and held hands. The dots on their foreheads grew bright for a moment, and threads of power flowed from them to Gunnar.
The Valknut throbbed with icy power, and Gunnar felt it take over for his mortal eye. The world was very different when seen through the mystic stone. The sun was a pale white disk just visible through banks of heavy snow clouds. Colors were muted, the light harsher and the shadows deeper.
The jarl took a deep breath and concentrated on the connection he felt to Mimi. It seemed stronger somehow, as if the second rune he’d gained had tied him closer to the völva. In fact, when he thought about Ray, his feelings for her had deepened. While he was still attached to Bridget, the distance between them made their bond fainter and more difficult to focus on. He’d hoped to find her through their ties, but that proved too difficult. The other völva would have to locate their sister. First, though, they needed to reach the lodge.
Ghostly golden outlines appeared in the distance. Those had to be the jötunn patrols. He turned in a circle to survey his enemies’ positions. The jarl counted five smaller groups nearby, and a dozen or so much larger ones a few blocks farther out. Gunnar watched the closer patrols for a few moments and realized they weren’t random. Someone had organized the jötnar to march in circular, overlapping patterns around the Strip. Without this ability to see their locations, Gunnar and the völva would’ve stumbled into trouble sooner rather than later.
“Are you okay?” he asked Mimi.
“I think so,” she replied. “That sucked the wind out of me, but I’m mostly recovered. Let’s get moving before the freak squads find us.”
“If you feel weak, tell me, okay?” Gunnar asked.
Mimi gave his hand a squeeze. “You got it, Jarly Tamale.”
“Really?” Gunnar asked.
“I’ve gotta million of �
�em,” Mimi said with a grin.
Thanks to Gunnar’s newfound jötunn radar, the group made good time through the city. They only had to backtrack a handful of times, and then only a block or two. The patrols didn’t venture far from the Strip, either. Once the party passed the outer edge of the monsters’ perimeter, they picked up the pace. Gunnar kept expecting Ray to complain about how fast he was going, but she never said a word. The völva jogged alongside Gunnar with effortless grace. He wasn’t the only one gaining strength as he acquired runes.
They caught sight of the lodge an hour after they’d left New York-New York. It had changed even more in their absence. A palisade of sharpened logs lashed together with links of sinew and woven fibers surrounded the lodge. The top story of the surface house had a peaked roof fashioned from ribs of arched branches and sod, with tree limbs stabbing through it to scrape at the sky. A single window looked out over the gate from the end of the longhouse, and a square of tanned hide covered it. Thick timbers, secured with iron bands, had replaced the damaged gate. The imposing structure would give invaders second thoughts.
The tension the jarl and the völva had felt dissipated a bit as they approached the lodge. As dangerous as their trek out of the Strip had been, as much as they were all worried about Bridget, there was something comforting about coming home.
And this place was home. Gunnar couldn’t imagine ever using that name for anywhere else. The hint of a smile broke through his frown at that thought.
“Last one to the lodge is a rotten egg!” Mimi slapped Gunnar on the ass and took off like a shot.
“Cheater!” Ray yelped and raced after the other völva. Her legs were shorter, but she was determined not to lose and her strides quickly ate up the distance between them.
The bodyguard jogged after his allies. He’d rather watch the gorgeous women from his vantage behind them than try to win. When he reached the closed gate a few seconds after Ray, Mimi strutted around with her hands in the air. The völva both grinned from ear to ear as he approached.