Rod raised his hand again. “What’s a Warg?”
Heimdall brushed past Rod, ignoring his question. “Not much we can do about that now.” He paced slowly in the center of the glade, every step deliberate. “We brought Fenrir and Managarm with us. They’re here.”
He stopped dead in his tracks as the image of the Fenris Wolf baying in victory over Odin’s body flashed again in his mind.
“Ragnarok,” he whispered.
Freya stood up straight and swallowed hard. “Managarm seeks the Tree’s magick to release the Fenris Wolf. He means to destroy us all.”
“No! You have to be mistaken.” Saga grabbed the front of Heimdall’s jacket. “Why would one of our own do such a thing? He has to know what the stakes are.”
“One of our own,” Freya sighed. “A disgruntled Old One who thinks he knows better than the rest of us.”
“Okay.” Rod cleared his throat, trying to participate in the conversation. “So, Wargs are bad. Right?”
Heimdall looked across the clearing at Rod and spent a long moment considering how much trouble he’d be in with his mother if he punched the handyman in the mouth. Before he could make up his mind, Freya spoke up.
“The young Yggdrasil isn’t far.” With one hand outstretched, Freya glanced around the grove, trying to feel her way to the World Tree. “Maybe a couple of miles.” She turned to Heimdall, and her face brightened. “And I can tell you this: It’s an Oregon White Oak.”
Freyr smiled and hugged his sister tight. “That’s good work. That makes the Tree easier to find.”
Saga frowned. “Assuming we get to it before Managarm does.”
Rod tightened his arms across his chest and shifted his weight between his feet. “So if Managarm finds the Tree first, it’s the end of the world? Literally?”
“The Universe,” Saga corrected.
Rod shivered against the cold. “But didn’t you say someone was working some sort of magick? Would Managarm have that kind of power? The rest of you don’t.”
“I don’t have all the answers,” Freya replied.
“Magick or not, doesn’t matter,” Freyr said. “If Managarm finds the Tree, while it’s still defenseless . . .”
“And if he were to get close enough to his goal but fail, things could still be pretty bad.” Saga’s angry eyes filled with tears.
Heimdall counted on his fingers. “Fenris Wolf running loose, Berserkers rampaging unchecked, the veils between worlds thinning or collapsing altogether. Did I miss anything?”
“Not all of that has come to pass. Yet.” Freya tilted her face toward him. “Be grateful for this news. Now we have a better idea of what we’re up against. And we can find the Tree.”
Laika danced nervously around Heimdall as he gazed toward the northwest. He shoved his hands into his pockets. “There’s a stand of young Oregon White Oaks, about four-and-a-half miles from here.”
Freya’s face brightened. “That’s it then. The Yggdrasil is there.”
“You don’t understand.” He rested his hands on his hips. “There are about six hundred trees in that stand. All Oregon White Oaks. All about the right age. The Yggdrasil could be any one of them.”
A grim smile froze on Freyr’s face. “Well, we’d better get moving then.”
9
Sally sat at the computer desk in the combined living/dining/study area of Opal’s fifth-floor apartment near Portland State University. She checked the display on her phone. 8:32 p.m. And she’d missed three calls from her parents.
Her stomach lurched. Her parents were probably worried sick. And she was supposed to perform a grounding spell—Nurturing the Seed, to reinforce and enhance Odin’s Return—in precisely twenty-seven minutes.
Sally was pretty sure that wasn’t going to happen.
“Stop checking the time,” Managarm grumbled from a folding chair on the opposite side of the room, where he sat and stared out the window at the Thursday night traffic below. “I told you, if you can find a healing spell—one that actually works, so I can be rid of this blasted headache—then I can help you with that other business.”
Sally lowered her eyes and looked at the laptop computer in front of her.
“Peppermint, with some honey.” Opal set a cup of hot tea in front of Sally.
Sally took a tentative sip. She’d never had heartburn before, but she’d never aged thirty years in just a few hours before, either. The warmth of the tea spread down into her chest, and Sally sighed in relief. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. You know how much I love pizza. It’s my favorite food group.”
Pizza boxes spilled off of the particle-board coffee table. They’d already had two deliveries for a total of five pizzas before David the Berserker consumed nearly the full contents of Opal’s pantry and refrigerator.
“You got any chips? Doritos? Pringles? How ‘bout cupcakes?” David sat on the back of the futon sofa and wiped pizza sauce across the front of his shirt. He cackled at an old episode of South Park on the television.
Sally watched him shove most of the last slice of pepperoni and sausage pizza into his mouth and felt her insides burn.
Opal sat down and rubbed Sally’s upper back. “Just keep drinking the tea.”
“What a crap day.” Sally took another sip. A single slice of Hotlips Pizza had left her convinced she was having a heart attack, but it was just indigestion. Embarrassed and upset, Sally held the warm mug close to her chest and inhaled the soothing mint.
Sally belched uncomfortably, and David howled with glee. Sally looked over at him and frowned. To her surprise, David froze. He stopped chewing, and he didn’t even bother to swallow as he stared at her, spine erect, awaiting her direction.
Sally waved a dismissive hand in the air, and the Berserker’s attentiveness flooded out of his body in a single breath. He went back to inhaling pizza and watching TV.
“There’s something seriously wrong with that kid,” Opal said, deliberately loud enough for David to hear.
“Berserker,” Managarm growled, not bothering to turn away from the window. “Get used to it.”
Opal leaned close to Sally. “Are you sure it’s safe? Having these guys here?”
Sally looked past her friend to the chuckling Berserker perched on the futon and the old god grumbling in the corner.
“I mean, one thinks he’s some kind of deity and the other is obviously on drugs,” Opal continued. “I know you believe in this stuff, and I’m following your lead here. But are you sure they aren’t just crazy street people?”
Sally lowered her voice to match Opal’s. “Running into that girl at the bookstore, the one named after the goddess? That’s not a coincidence. And I know it sounds wild, but that is Managarm! I know it in my bones. And so, okay, a Berserker shows up. But doesn’t that prove the spell is working? My magick is working! It’s gone a little hinky, but Managarm says he can help fix it.”
Sally watched Managarm as he stared at the street below. A thrill of excitement and fear raced down her spine, and she held the warm mug tighter. One of the Norse gods, here! And he’s chosen me!
Her unsettled stomach churned and her throat burned with another loud pizza belch. She clamped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry,” she murmured through closed fingers.
Opal patted Sally’s shoulder. “It’s no wonder, with all the stress. Who knows how you’re going to react to things now, with this, umm . . .”
“With my new old lady body.” Sally felt the familiar sting of tears, but she sniffed them back. She’d wasted too much time feeling sorry for herself. She put her mug down and squared herself in front of the computer.
“Can you log me into the PSU network?” Sally cleared her throat and raised her voice. “We must commence at once.”
Opal leaned over the keyboard to type in the password for her student account. “We must commence at once? Are you kidding me?”
A smirk broke on Sally’s face, and she turned to make sure Managarm wasn’t watching. “I’m trying to
sound more official. You know, for him.”
Opal sighed and hit ENTER. “Whatever.”
PSU’s global library network portal came up in the web browser.
“Okay, you’re in,” Opal said. “Just don’t do anything to get me in trouble. All right?”
“Okay.” Sally’s fingers hovered over the keyboard. “I guess I should start with looking up that PDF book we found.”
Opal rubbed her tired eyes. “Don’t remind me. I think I’m going to need new glasses after trying to speed-read through that thing. Seriously, that wasn’t English. It was all leseferdighet this and antikvitet landområde that.”
Sally smiled. “Very good. I think those are actual words.”
“If you say so.” Opal crossed her arms. “That publisher should think about trying again with a different translator. Maybe if we spoke actual Norwegian . . .”
Sally typed “The Myth and Magick of Freya’s Rune Spells” into the academic search engine, then glanced again at Managarm sitting in the corner.
“He doesn’t look so good.” Sally’s breath caught in her throat. “What if he’s dying!”
Opal cocked her head to one side. “Can gods really die? If he is who he says he is.”
Sally pressed her lips tight. “It happens. The blind god, Hödr, accidentally killed his brother, Baldr, with the mistletoe spear. And then Baldr’s wife, Nanna, died of grief and threw herself on his funeral pyre . . .”
“Yeah, okay.” Opal waved her off. “You’re making my head hurt.”
Sally scrolled through the search results on the screen. “The point is, the Norse gods aren’t immortal, at least not the way most people think. They need the sacred apples from Iduna’s Grove to restore their powers and long life. But those trees only bear fruit every so often.”
Opal stared at what was left of her kitchen after David’s latest raid. “Sacred apples, huh? So I guess a banana from Safeway wouldn’t do the trick?”
Sally turned sharply to face Opal. “Come on! It’s not funny. He’s here, and he’s hurt. And I’m, well, I’m pretty messed up, too. I need help with this.”
Opal’s face softened. “What can I do?”
Sally grimaced at the seemingly endless list of search results scrolling up the screen. “You can help me plow through this while I try to figure out a way to help an old god without Iduna’s apples.”
“Sure.” Opal nodded incredulously. “So just an average Thursday night, then.”
Sally threw her another sharp look. Opal shrugged and squinted through her glasses at the computer screen. “Oy. This is going to take all night, isn’t it?”
David started howling again in front of the television and punched the sofa cushions in a fit of laughter. The girls looked at each other and rolled their eyes.
“Hang on.” Opal jumped up from her chair and started toward the bedrooms. “I think my roommate left her computer here when she headed home for fall break.”
Sally blinked at the screen. Everything was looking fuzzier and fuzzier. She rubbed at her eyes and tried to ignore the wrinkles she could feel under her fingers. Did she need glasses now, too?
“You are weary.”
Sally jumped at the sound of Managarm’s voice. She turned her head, expecting him to be standing right next to her, but he remained in his chair on the other side of the room, staring at her.
Her mouth jerked into an embarrassed smile. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”
Managarm forced what he hoped appeared to be a gentle smile onto his face. He rose from his chair, grimacing at the squeak of metal against the linoleum floor—like a bullet to his throbbing brain, the pain nearly as bad as the hangover he’d suffered after a three-day mead binge on the eve of the midwinter holiday of Jul back in the 1580s.
Managarm stepped across the floor toward Sally, ignoring the Berserker’s protests as he blocked the television screen. He enjoyed watching her young, pale green eyes in her prematurely wrinkled face grow wide at his approach.
“When was the last time you rested?” he asked.
Sally gestured awkwardly toward the computer. “I’m trying to track down another ritual source. You know, to figure out what went wrong.”
Managarm lifted his eyebrows. He thought he heard the young witch squeak—and the pain in his head began to subside.
“But I’m looking for something to help you, too.” She fidgeted with her hands in her lap. “There might be another computer, so we can work faster.”
One corner of Managarm’s mouth ticked up into a half-smile. “You must relax, Sally Dahl. You’re no good to me if you persist in this anxious state.”
“You’re right, of course,” Sally choked. Her face started to flush red.
Suddenly clearheaded and free of pain, Managarm leaned down and rested a hand on her thin shoulder. He smiled at the feel of her aged, brittle bones beneath his fingers. It would be so easy to break this little witch apart. “Take a breath.”
Panic spread on her face as her diaphragm froze. Her wide eyes darted left and right as her cheeks began to purple from lack of oxygen. If he weren’t pressed for time, Managarm thought he’d quite enjoy torturing this mortal pretender at his leisure.
Try to steal my Berserkers from me? I’ll chew you up like fresh game before the rising of the Black Moon.
“Sally. Sally, look at me.” He pressed down hard on her shoulder, and the pain seemed to snap her back into focus. “You need to relax. Now, breathe.”
Sally sucked in a desperate breath and coughed as she exhaled.
“Good. Again, but with a little less distress this time, hmm?”
Sally smiled as her skin color faded to her more normal ivory. By her fourth inhalation, she was breathing easily.
“All right then.” Managarm straightened up and stood over her. The pain in his head came screaming back with the effort, and he doubled over in pain, groaning.
Sally was instantly on her feet. “Oh! Oh, no! Let me help you!” She guided him into her chair.
Managarm shivered at the feel of her bony fingers through his flannel shirt, but instead of taking the hint, the girl pressed her palm against his forehead.
“You don’t feel hot. But . . . Do gods have the same body temperature as people? Tell me what to do?”
Managarm stared dumbly at her. What in bloody Bilrost was she talking about? He pushed her hands away from his face and barely restrained himself from growling, then softened his tone when he saw the startled expression on Sally’s face. “My apologies. I will be fine, just as soon as you find a way to heal me.”
And for her sake, that had better come sooner than later. He smiled silently.
Beneath the table, Baron crawled out of Sally’s backpack. With a fierce growl, the cat took a swipe at Managarm’s ankle.
“By the flames of Muspellheim!” Managarm hissed and scooted back from the table, grasping his ankle.
Horrified, Sally yanked her pudgy cat up off the floor and held him far away from Managarm. “Baron! What did I tell you about that kind of behavior!”
Over Sally’s shoulder, Managarm locked eyes with the feline beast. The cat had been snarling at him ever since Managarm climbed into Opal’s car at the coffee shop.
The cat knew. Managarm stared into Baron’s hazel eyes and bared his teeth as Sally continued to scold the cat. The cat didn’t blink.
Sally headed toward the bathroom. “I’m so sorry!” she shouted over her shoulder. “He’s been in such a bad mood lately.”
She tossed Baron into the bathroom and shut the door. “There. Did he hurt you?”
Managarm could feel his jeans sticking to the blood as it trickled down into his boot. He forced himself to smile. “No harm done.”
“Here it is!” Opal burst in from one of the bedrooms carrying her roommate’s laptop. She stopped short when she saw Managarm sitting at the computer table. “I know my roommate’s password. Sally can hunt down that cure or whatever, while I look for the book she wants.”
> “Very good.” Managarm rose and offered the chair to Sally. She stood there, nervous and uncertain. Managarm silently cursed, certain her fidgeting was going to drive him mad before the Black Moon finally arrived. He nodded to Opal and walked back to his seat in the window, passing David who was bouncing on the sofa cushions in time to a soda pop commercial and barking out a vague approximation of the melody.
Sitting down, Managarm felt sharp daggers of pain flare in his skull and radiate down his spine. Either the witch would come up with a solution soon, or he’d go back to frightening the bejeezus out of her to relieve his own agony. Killing her outright might produce an instant cure, but he couldn’t afford to cut her loose just yet. Too much left for her to do.
Like calling and—Managarm growled at the thought—controlling more Berserkers. Preferably warriors who did more than eat and watch cartoons all night.
David plopped down from the back of the sofa, landing hard on the cushions. “This is boring. I’m hungry. Are there any doughnuts? Or tacos? I could really go for some cheese puffs.”
Managarm sighed darkly. This first Berserker was a complete waste of space. He’d forgotten how impossible the warriors could be during their downtime, and how many had often gotten themselves killed off as nuisances. Managarm decided David had better find a way to prove his worth before the next sunset, or he’d find himself the first casualty of Managarm’s war on Odin’s clan.
Sally sat down and started typing. “I’ll email the URL for these search results, okay? Then just see if you can narrow them down to something useful pertaining to that book.”
Opal sat down beside her and powered up her roommate’s laptop. “What’s it called again?”
“The Myth and Magick of Freya’s Rune Spells.” Sally entered Opal’s email address and hit SEND. “See if you can find the text online anywhere. Second best would be a hard copy of the book, someplace local.”
Opal keyed in her roommate’s password.
Sally glanced at Managarm in the corner. She needed a reinvigoration or healing spell for an old god. She started simultaneous searches on the PSU portal, Google, PaganNet, Occult100, Ariadnespider, ShadowsWeb, and MagickBucket.
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