Thor sighed. Alice was in his hand a second later, and he was scanning the shadows; Martin LeMay following close behind, guarding the rear.
“You said something earlier about hope.” The muzzle of the rifle shifted with LeMay’s eye movement.
“That I did.”
It did not take long for them to find what Thor feared they would.
When Jacques Montrose opened the dead creature’s belly, he discovered there were pups within her womb, and he tried desperately to make sure they did not survive. Too bad the old man never got to finish what he started.
One pup lay dead and decomposing next to a small pile of bones, but Hróðvitnir managed to save the other two, and they were now suckling on a deformed female creature.
Thor felt a strange sense of pity for the surrogate mother. Even for a loathsome beast, this thing had more deformities than one living creature should have to bear. Her hind legs were stunted, her front twisted and riddled with arthritis. She had patches of long fur, patches of short, and patches where none grew at all. Her spine was bent and twisted, and she shook with perpetual tremors, from what Thor guessed the equivalent of Parkinson’s disease.
Thor noticed bite marks on the back of her neck, and followed the smear on the floor where she had been dragged out of her own filth. He suspected that was more for the benefit of the pups than for her; she was an emaciated creature that obviously received just enough nourishment to keep her alive, and no more.
The deformed creature sniffed at the air with its mangled snout. White, sightless eyes shifted from side to side in their wide sockets, wincing in pain as one of the pups dug newly formed teeth into her teat. She’s food. When those little fuckers wean, they’d eat her.
Thor closed his eyes, concentrating on the animal; all he could sense was pain and despair. She knows her fate. Hróðvitnir is more of a monster than any us knew!
Martin pointed the rifle at her head, but Thor pushed the muzzle gently to the side.
“Not like that,” he said softly.
Thor holstered Alice, then wrestled one of the pups free. It was an ugly creature, really. The soft features were not soft enough to hide the monster it would grow into. It glared at Thor with crusty, film-covered eyes, and snarled, bearing new needle-like teeth. Born early, less than a month old, and you’re already filled with hate.
“You just make friends wherever you go,” Martin said.
“You may want to step over there.” Thor nodded toward the glow-stick in the center of the cave.
Martin shook his head. “I knew what needed to be done, just as soon as we found them.”
Thor nodded.
The Chihuahua-sized demon snarled as Thor grasped it by the top of its head. Thor stared into its eyes as he placed Mikki’s knife to its throat. A forceful slice later, the body fell to the floor, blood oozing from the open wound. Fortunately, the immature creature’s bones lacked the strength and density of fully grown monster, making Thor eternally grateful. He tossed the head aside, then repeated the process.
Then Thor knelt beside the deformed female. She shied with fear as he stroked her neck. “It’s alright,” he said softly, stroking her gently behind her ears. “Your pain will be gone soon,” he said with a soothing tone.
She leaned closer, sniffing at Thor’s face. Thor stroked her neck twice more, then rammed the blade between her ribs as hard as he could. The creature jerked from the sudden shock, then collapsed. Thor caught her, resting her weight against his shoulder, easing her to the floor. As her sightless eyes slid closed and she exhaled one final time, Thor felt a sense of relief and gratitude from the creature.
It may have been nothing more than wishful thinking on Thor’s part, but he hoped it was real. Either way, the animal was freed of her suffering.
“You alright?” Martin LeMay asked.
“Yes,” Thor replied. He stared down at the deformed body, sorry he could not give her a decent burial. She deserved that much for all the pain and suffering she had endured.
Thor stood, his head swimming and his surroundings spinning. Martin reached out to steady him, and Thor clutched the man’s arm. He slipped the knife behind his belt, and rubbed his forehead. Visions of blood, destruction, and the strong feeling of blind hatred flooded his mind. His knees buckled, and the agent caught him under his arms to keep him from falling to the floor.
“We’ve got to go! Now!” Thor shouted.
“You’re fucking kidding me!” Martin LeMay cursed, helping Thor to his feet. “What am I saying?! Of course you’re not.”
The F.B.I. agent placed Thor’s arm over his shoulder, practically dragging him to the yellow glow at the far end of the cavern. He found the nylon string and let it slide through a loose grip as he followed it toward the mouth of the cave, doing his best to keep Thor from falling.
After a hundred feet or so, Thor’s dizziness had subsided and he loosened his grip on Martin. “Go!” Thor shouted. “I’ll be right behind you!”
Thor kept his promise as they raced toward the opening, remaining on the agent’s heels step for step until the star-filled sky shown through the mouth of the cave.
“Now comes the fun part,” Martin said between gasps.
The agent was right, this part did suck. They ascended the cliff at a snail’s pace, all the while Thor feeling Hróðvitnir growing closer and closer by the second. Why doesn’t that fucker just die? What in Hel am I missing?
“Else, we need to make a fast get-a-way!” Thor shouted into the microphone.
“Ready when you are,” the blonde pilot replied.
The two men trudged their way up the cliff, Martin slowing his pace to keep Thor moving. When they finally reached the top, both of them were gasping for breath, and frantically unhitching their ropes. They sprinted toward the clearing where the helicopter awaited, as if in a race where the loser would have to stay to face the monster.
Instincts and blind luck kept either man from tripping over a loose rock and breaking their necks, or taking the plunge into the abyss as they crested the jagged peak.
“Move it, boys,” Else’s voice echoed in their ears. “That damned thing is gaining on you.” The Blackhawk swooped in from the south and hovered overhead. Two ropes uncoiled from the door, and Nwabudike and Bonchance were motioning them frantically.
Thor and Martin barely had time to secure themselves to the tethers before the nose of the helicopter angled down, and a series of missiles flew from the launcher. An instant later, the two men were dangling in the dark sky as the Blackhawk ascended toward the heavens.
There was a loud howl and a sudden jerk, then suddenly the helicopter seemed to be straining to keep them aloft. They were descending into the abyss, Thor feeling Else struggling to control the helicopter through the rope.
“Son-of-a-bitch!” Martin LeMay shouted. He pointed the rifle toward his feet and began to fire.
Thor looked down to see Hróðvitnir dangling about eight feet below Martin’s boots, the rope clenched tightly in his powerful jaws. It would not take much for the creature to take Martin with him, as he fell. From Else’s frantic curses in German, they were all on the point of falling to their deaths as it were.
“Cut me loose!” Martin shouted to Thor, firing into Hróðvitnir’s skull.
Without hesitation, Thor lowered himself, drew Mikki’s wicked blade, and sliced the rope near the other man’s knees. The few strands not severed by the knife snapped like rotten thread, and the beast fell into the darkness. Else recovered quickly, moving them from the cliff face, and into the star-filled sky.
Thor had no illusion that the fall would kill the beast. He was beginning to doubt anything could. What the Hel am I missing?!
Nwabudike and Bonchance pulled them to safety as the Blackhawk soared away.
“Else, tell Julia to get underway as fast as she can.” Thor shouted between gasps.
“What makes you think this beast will come after you?” Nwabudike asked.
Thor looked him in the
eye. “I killed his entire family, tried to turn him to dust, and tossed him off a mountain, in one night.”
“There’d be nowhere on earth you could hide from me,” Martin said.
“Exactly!” Thor sighed, staring out the window. I’ve got to be ready for everything I’d do to me. Damn, that’s a scary thought!
* * *
Hróðvitnir son of Loki, grandson of Odin howled with furry as he fell. He hit a jagged rock with a sickening sound, spraying the base of the mountain with blood from the three foot gash along his charred back. The taste of blood mixed with the ash coating the roof of his mouth, from the first attempt on his life this evening.
The sound of the flying machine faded, taking with it the human that had destroyed a thousand years of work. How could this happen? How the Ǽsir could bestow such good fortune on a mortal man, while tormenting one of their own; condemning him to rot on Midgard, alone for all eternity?
The great wolf rolled onto his side, wheezing and spitting blood. His wounds would be healed by morning, but the pain would remain for a long time to come. Pain was no stranger to him, though; it was as much a part of him as the air in his lungs and blood in his veins.
It would not be a stranger to this false Thor Odinsson, either. The boy wanted a war; his actions practically begging for it. Now he has one. Hróðvitnir would return tonight’s favor a thousand fold. He would take everything from the boy. He would bathe himself in the blood of everyone the boy loved. Then he would make this thorn beg to die before granting his wish.
Chapter 39
Declaration of war
Captain Earl Dunbar lit a cigarette, then took a sip of coffee as the city of Thessaloniki, Greece shrank in the wake of Vali’s Fjørd.
The ship was on high alert, the men were nervous. As if dealing with bad weather and pirates weren’t bad enough; now someone was sabotaging Tryggur Lines, sinking four in the area over the past two days.
Whoever was behind the destruction had best stay clear of this ship. Every member of her crew was well-armed, and not afraid to send a would-be saboteur to meet their maker. In fact, there were a few – Captain Earl included – that hoped the evil bastards tried to sink this ship; there were a lot of good men lost that would rest better, knowing a blood-debt had been repaid in full.
The captain took a long drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke out the open window to swirl in the warm breeze. The golden sun was setting over the water, the weather was calm and they’d be in New York with a full load, where he planned to spend a month visiting his daughter, and tossing back a few beers with the old crew. Life was good, all things considered!
Suddenly the ship rocked from an explosion, originating from what sounded like the engine room. The captain tried to get a report, but there was no answer. Seconds later, he heard gunfire, and the screams began, terrible sounds that sent chills running down the captain’s spine. It seemed the saboteurs stowed away on his ship, and the crew was taking out their revenge.
Captain Earl Dunbar drew his Colt .45, opened the hatch, and stepped out on the deck, hoping the crew left one alive for him. He never condoned the thought of murder before, and didn’t now; but there wasn’t a harbormaster alive that wouldn’t call returning to port with the bodies of this sort of scum hanging from the mast justified.
“Dear god!” he gasped, seeing a monstrous creature rushing toward him. The captain scrambled to make it back through the hatch, and bolt the door behind him. He never made it.
* * *
George Milonas watched as the last search boat returned to shore. The news had already spread throughout the workers: no survivors. He crossed himself, offered a prayer for the dead, and kissed his Saint Christopher medal. How could a ship have sunk so fast? She had to have been in serious trouble before leaving the dock, for her to be completely under before a rescue boat could get within a mile of her position.
He scrubbed a hand through thick, curly black hair, and started for home. It had been a long day, and his wife would be worried.
There was a commotion ahead, people rushing toward the west end of the docks. The Tryggur warehouse was on fire!
He ran to see if there was anything he could do to help, but the flames were spreading rapidly; the dark sky glowing orange as the flames rose into the night sky. George hoped there was no one inside, but he feared the worst; none of the workers were in sight. It seemed God was punishing the Tryggur Lines; it must have been a horrible sin to deserve his full wrath.
It was a selfish act that made him ashamed, but he thanked God he did not work for the Odinsson family.
Chapter 40
Dark Revelations
Mjölnir sat anchored a mile off the coast of Gallipoli, Italy. It was an ideal setting with warm sunny days, crystal clear water, and a white-sand beach that just begged to be rested upon as you lazed about with a cool drink in your hand.
Onboard, tensions were high as her crew patrolled her decks in their round the clock vigil, though Thor promised to cut and run long before the beast got close enough to attack. This war with Hróðvitnir was going to end with a full-fledged throw-down between the two of them, but Thor still had no idea of just how to kill the goddamned thing, yet.
Thor sat at his desk in the study, going over the growing pile of depressing reports. He rubbed his head, finding it difficult to concentrate with Dylah Stigg yelling into her phone just outside the open sliding glass door. The scary-ass bitch was pacing too far away to understand what had her so pissed, but whoever was on the other end was getting an ear-full.
The evil creature was wreaking havoc on his business, sinking nine ships and destroying four warehouses in three days. Thor gritted his teeth every time a new report came in; the ships and buildings could be replaced, but the people dying could not. He halted work in all of the area near Greece until the threat was over. However, it was impossible to predict when that would be; the way the goddamned thing kept crisscrossing kept Thor wondering just where he would strike next.
Thor studied the map on the screen mounted to the walnut paneling for the twentieth time, noting the locations of carnage and surprisingly where it had not occurred. Six warehouses, a rail line, and two ships in the same area had been passed over, twice. If there was a pattern to Hróðvitnir destruction, Thor could not see it. If the great beast was trying to drive Thor mad, it was working.
Sorina slipped into the room with a large tray. She placed a bowl of potato soup sprinkled with bacon and chives in front of him, then poured two cups of the spiced tea, handing him one and taking a sip from the other. He was growing fond of the tea, it made him feel warm all over, and the taste lingered on his tongue, much the same as Sorina.
She lifted his chin with a single finger; a mere whisper would have produced the same effect, though it did not offer the soul-soothing pleasure of her touch. Those beautiful brown eyes melted all of his troubles. They would return all too soon, but for the moment, nothing existed but Sorina. She kissed his lips, and warmth flooded his body.
“Eat,” she said softly, “or I’ll be forced to do something drastic.” A few days ago she would have given him a sly smile. Now, all she could manage was hiding her fear… if not very well.
He nodded, picking up the spoon.
He was starving, actually. He had picked over dinner last night, and had nothing but café – spiked with a shot of cognac, thanks to Dominic – for breakfast. Before he knew it, the bowl was empty and Sorina was giving him a satisfied nod.
“I don’t care! Just do it!” Dylah shouted, then stuffed the phone into her pocket. The woman growled, kicked the railing, and threw a deck chair overboard. Somehow, somewhere down the line, she has to be related to Mikki!
“We’ve got more problems,” Dylah announced, entering the study.
Thor sighed, his shoulders slumping and his mind reeling. “What now?”
The woman glanced at Sorina. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Thor took a sip of tea, wishing that Domi
nic had slipped something in it before Sorina brought it to him. “Just spit it out.” There was no attempt to hide his frustration.
“Our best man was ambushed.” The coppery-skinned woman raised a hand. “He’ll be fine. His ego is more bruised than anything else. But that goddamned demon took out Tango Company at our base in Durrës, and Lima went down over the Med in a C-130.” She shook her head. “No one survived either.”
Thor looked up from the tea cup. “Durrës?”
“It’s a small operation in Albania. We mainly use it to store weapons.” Dylah spoke as if this were common knowledge, and was irritated Thor had been slacking on his studies.
Thor brought the small seaside city up on the map. He had been tracking Hróðvitnir for days- the thing was hiding outside Naousa, Greece for the moment, but that could change in the blink of an eye. He was keeping busy, and covering a lot of ground, keeping near populated areas to diminish the threat of an aerial assault, but he had definitely not gone anywhere near this base. Curiouser and Curiouser. What are the chances these two incidents are pure coincidence? None!
“Could I borrow your chopper and pilot?” Dylah asked. “I’ve got a clean-up crew on the scene, but I have to be there, personally; Jacques would.”
“Absolutely,” Thor said, standing. “And I’m going with you.”
Sorina appeared ready to cry as she stared into her tea cup.
This time it was Thor’s turn to lift Sorina’s chin with a finger. He kissed her lips. “You better get changed, if you’re coming with us.”
“It’s not going to be pretty,” Dylah announced.
Sorina sat her cup on the tray, her dark eyes focusing on the other woman. “It never is.”
The building was still smoldering when the Blackhawk touched down. Far more of the structure was intact than Thor believed should be, considering the amount of explosives and ammunition Dylah reported had been inside.
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