A bullet grazed Thor’s shoulder, just enough to break the skin, but adding one more wound to ooze blood at this point was ridiculous.
He reached for Alice. These men deserved to die, they were fucking up his plan! Mainly the part where I’m alive at the end of it!
Thor fired until he emptied the magazine, dropping the men closest to him with ease. Then he reloaded and started over again, widening the circle. He dodged three more bullets fired at Hróðvitnir, but coming way too close for comfort. He knew the men were not aiming for him; with the all the chaos they most likely never realized he was even there, but it pissed him off just the same.
Lead suddenly poured down around him in a steady stream. Thor looked up to see Else swooping down to finish the job he started, praying she did not shoot him by mistake. Thor moved toward the beast, put the man in its mouth out of his misery with a bullet to the forehead, and smiled at the horror in Hróðvitnir’s golden eyes.
“I’ve come for you!” Thor shouted. “If you have a soul, feel despair to the depths of its core. Because I know how to defeat you!”
Chelsea had given him the answer on a silver platter, long before his first encounter with the beasts, and he did not listen.
You will face Hróðvitnir, she said.
She never said I’d kill him. Gods, how many lives would’ve been saved, if only I had figured that out sooner?
Martin LeMay was rushing toward him, spent and slowing. Within seconds, the man would not be able to help with Hróðvitnir, which was just as well, this was not his fight.
“Watch my back!” Thor shouted, then faced the creature, fire in his eyes.
Thor holstered Alice; she could do no harm to the demon. He reached for the amulet around his neck, not surprised when a link loosened and the chain slipped free. He gripped the medallion tight in his hand, the gold links shimmering in the light of the full moon, and sneered at the beast that had caused so much pain. Thor knew what he must do, and he would do it, but first, a little payback was in order.
Hróðvitnir reared and tried to scramble away from Thor, the fear mirrored in the monster’s golden eyes priceless. The thing had every right to be afraid, Thor could match its speed, its strength, anticipate its moves, and strike at will.
With the flick of Thor’s wrist, the chain whipped forth, snaring one of the beast’s hind legs. Thor gritted his teeth, yanking the amulet as hard as he could. The creature hurled over Thor’s head, howling in pain, crashing to the ground with an earth-shaking thud.
The monster came to life, its terror-filled eyes growing wider. Hróðvitnir howled with rage, taking a swipe at Thor’s head with unbelievable speed. Any other time it would have crushed Thor’s skull, but not this time; the effects of slipping through time put the odds in Thor’s favor. Thor sidestepped, dodging the blow, a cruel smile covering his face, blood trickling from his chin.
The happiest thought crossing Thor’s mind was how much he was going to enjoy every last second of torment he was going to rain down on the creature. Thor loosened the chain from the beast’s leg with another flick of the wrist. “This is for Mikki!” the chain whipped across Hróðvitnir’s back, cutting through the flesh like a razor.
Panic-stricken and in pain, the creature howled, tearing at the ground with massive claws, in a futile attempt to flee. It reared again, swiping a massive paw at Thor’s head, howling in disgust as the man ducked away with ease.
“This is for everyone you’ve killed that didn’t deserve to die!” The chain slashed across Hróðvitnir’s back again, spattering thick blood to cover Thor’s face in a crimson mask.
Hróðvitnir howled in pain. He spun with a snarl, taking another swipe at Thor, only to have his foreleg snapped with the chain. He reared with an ear-splitting howl, collapsing in pain, and shuddering with fear he could not quash.
“This is for even thinking of coming after Sorina!” Thor jumped on the animal’s back. With a knee to the back of Hróðvitnir’s neck, he placed the chain around the creature’s throat and pulled with the last of his strength.
The wild-eyed creature shuddered, then bucked Thor from its back, sending the man flying through the air like a rag doll. He wheezed and coughed, trying to scramble to his feet, nursing the broken leg.
Thor crashed to the ground, rolled , and sprang to his feet, light-headed. He would not spring like that from another tumble. Now, it was time to end this!
He grasped the chain firmly in his left hand, the medallion glittering in the firelight as it dangled freely. He swung it round and round over his head, the air singing with an eerie whistle.
Thor reveled in Hróðvitnir’s panic; the great beast swinging his head side to side, like the cornered animal with no escape that it was.
Thor lifted his face to the heavens, shouting:
“The sound of a cat’s footfall…”
“The roots of a mountain…”
“The beard of a woman…”
“The sinews of a bear…”
“The breath of a fish…”
“The spittle of a bird…”
Then Thor released the chain.
Gleipnir, the restraint forge by the dwarves to fetter Hróðvitnir for all time, hurled toward the creature, glowing and lengthening until it was hundreds of feet in length and no thicker than silk thread. It snared the beast, binding legs and muzzle in the blink of an eye, cinching the animal in shimmering gold thread. The great beast known as Fenrir fought in vain against his restraints, finally slumping and whimpering when the realization sunk in that he was a prisoner once more.
Thor stared into the sorrow-filled eyes of the beast, feeling a bit of pity for Hróðvitnir, but not much. He tried to sense the creature’s feelings, but the bond between them had been broken for good, making Thor the most grateful man on Earth.
Thor took two steps before his knees buckled, sending him face-first to the dirt. He rolled to his back, wheezing and shaking. The pain he felt slamming against the shack was nothing compared to the waves of torment he now felt.
He gazed up at the brilliant light of the bright full moon and laughed. Gods, that fucking hurt!
He was catching up to time – or time was catching up to him; he was never really sure which. People around him were moving faster, their words were beginning to make sense.
Martin was first to his side, kneeling, his eyes wide. Shit! If I look half that bad, I’m a dead man!
Sorina pushed the ex-agent aside with a stiff-arm any NFL running back would be proud of. “Oh, Thor, what have you done?”
He gazed into her eyes, smiling with blood stained teeth. “Saved the world. It was a bit more difficult than I thought.”
She laid herself across his chest, sobbing into his neck. He did not have the heart to tell her it hurt like Hel.
It was at that moment a thousand-year-old promise came to fruition. A tremendous roar – like a fifty-foot tall, roid-raged lion – split the air, shaking the earth beneath Thor’s back. The men jumped, pointing their weapons at the tethered best that could do no more harm.
Then Thor watched as a tiny dark speck crossed the face of the moon. The speck grew larger and larger, until wings formed, then a long, slender neck and tail. You’ve got to be kidding me! Everyone jumped again as the winged creature roared with a thunderous sound that made the previous one pale by comparison. They all looked to the sky, seeing now what Thor saw.
The dragon dove and swooped over the castle wall, the breeze it caused fanning the fires burning everywhere. It circled round, heading toward the courtyard in a rush. Please don’t shoot at it, Else!
It landed twenty feet from Thor, as large as a semi-truck, with multi-colored scales that glittered like gold, rubies, and sapphires. Its large red-gold eyes seemed to burn from behind as it fixed its gaze on Thor. Then it folded it leathery wings and lowered its head.
A woman slid from the saddle on the dragon’s back, tall, well-muscled, with long gold braids hanging past her shoulders, wearing glittering silver ch
ain mail. Her bright-blue eyes scanned the scene with scrutiny, an intricately-engraved spear gripped in one hand, a golden shield in the other. She moved with a sensuously-enticing grace as she strode toward them, her heavy boots effortlessly brushing aside the bodies of fallen men.
The men raised weapons, their eyes filled with awe, as they pointed their muzzles at her.
“Hold your fire,” Thor wheezed, blood flowing freely down the side of his face. I think you’ll only piss her off!
She glided up to Thor, placing a hand on Sorina’s shoulder. “I mean you no harm, but I must do what must be done.”
“No,” Sorina said, her voice quivering. “No. You can’t. Please!”
Martin glanced at the woman, then lowered his eyes, helping Nwabudike get Sorina to her feet. It took a great deal of effort for the two men to keep Sorina from rushing to Thor’s side; their eyes filled with tears, and neither man willing to even glance at Sorina.
“I am Hlaðguðr Svanhvit,” the woman said, kneeling at Thor’s side. “I have bested ten score of my sisters to earn the honor of guiding you across Bifrost.”
“I thought Valkyries rode winged horses,” Thor barely managed.
Hlaðguðr Svanhvit pursed her lips, a slight irritation in her pale eyes. “So I have heard.”
She bent over him, completely blocking the full moon from his view. “You will be received into the Hall of Heroes, fierce warrior,” she said, smiling.
“NOOOO!” Sorina screamed, struggling to break free from Martin and Nwabudike’s grip.
Bryndis wrenched Bonchance’s rifle from his hands, emptied the magazine into the restrained beast, then fell to her knees, wailing uncontrollably.
Chapter 48
The Warm Bahamian Sunshine
Martin LeMay stood on the white-sand beach of Rum Cay, staring out at the crystal clear water. Mjölnir was anchored half a mile off, surrounded by a small fleet of Bahamian Coast Guard ships, ready to sink anything that approached her. Trust was a difficult thing to come by these days; the other night, thirty people drew pistols after someone dropped a fork on the floor. A sneeze may have started a shootout.
This was an idyllic place, just as he’d always imagined it would be, warm, sunny, and nothing to do but enjoy life. If he tried hard enough, he could see his dream home next to the golf course, nestled in the trees at his back. A good woman would share his home, his bed, his life. These were all the things he desired, dreamed he would possess once he won the lottery. Now that he had won, he found his perfect picture tainted, full of cracks, and far too expensive that had nothing to do with money.
He was considered a traitor, an enemy of the state, with his name and photo plastered on every terrorist watch list. He killed the real traitor, but Vince Lydle had done a thorough job setting him up for the fall. After all the shit I did for my country! There was a slim possibility he could get this cleared – a team of lawyers were working night and day to make that happen – but Martin had little hope. No good deed…
After assuming the name Sean Donovan, he arranged for the ticket to be cashed. However, that was far more money than one man ought to have. So, he did what any decent man would: he gave Tilde Heitman a sizable chunk. After all, the woman was in the same boat as he; her smiling face right next to his on that terrorist watch-list.
Then he did what he thought Thor would’ve done, setting up several charities to help those less fortunate; God knows there’s a lot of them out there. He started an international foundation to help homeless vets; because the words homeless and veteran should never be used to describe the same person. It made him feel good, but using his own name and walking around without looking over his shoulder like a crack-head with a laptop under his arm would make him feel infinitely better.
He could walk, however, a few lost that ability, many more lost their lives. So, in the grand scheme of things, Martin had little to bitch about.
Nwabudike Adeyemi walked slowly to the water’s edge, dressed in a full dress uniform befitting his title – though the man could never return to his home country, either. There seems to be a lot of that going around, lately.
“It’s almost time,” Nwabudike said with that rumbling voice of his. He seemed in a better mood, today. After losing two men in the castle raid, Nwabudike gave the order not to take prisoners, and the man seemed haunted by that decision ever since.
Dylah Stigg didn’t have that problem, though. From what Martin understood, the woman gave the same order to her men, and the body-count continues to rise daily in her pursuit of the Ahnenerbe that had infiltrated her army. She swore not rest until every last one of them was rotting in Hell. She’s even posting their dead faces on the internet, letting the rest know what’s going to happen. You gotta love a woman like that!
Martin puffed his cigar – a recently acquired habit – watching a thin white cloud pass overhead. The salty-scent of the ocean was interrupted by the sweet smell of flowers blowing on the breeze, then disappeared just as quickly as it came. “Did you ever think it would end like this?”
Nwabudike was as expressionless as ever. “The way Thor Odinsson lived his life, this is exactly the way I thought he would end up.”
Martin nodded slowly. Nwabudike knew the young man better than he. However, this was not how Martin envisioned events to unfold, not in a million years. Somehow, even after the time they spent together, he pictured Thor Odinsson sailing away with a broad smile plastered on his face, and a fond “Fuck you all!” to everyone left behind.
Martin cleared his throat, surprised that he was getting so emotional. Hell, with his luck, he already had throat cancer from the cigars, after just a few days of smoking. “Are you going to disappear after today?”
Every one of the crew was surprised to find Thor had set them up with a five million dollar Swiss account, none more than Nwabudike. Thor had done the same for the women, as well, except Bryndis, hers was fifty million. But that woman put up with Thor’s bullshit for twenty years; she’s more than earned every goddamned penny.
“No,” Nwabudike said firmly. He nodded toward Mjölnir. “She still needs me, I believe.”
Martin cleared his throat again. If this keeps up, I’ll be crying like a little girl before the day is done. “I can’t imagine her in better hands.”
Martin sighed, stuffed the remainder of the cigar in a metal tube, then followed Nwabudike to a series of tents. Nwabudike continued on, rumbling orders to his men, while Martin stopped near the flap of a small white tent.
“Uhem,” Martin cleared his throat.
“Come in, Martin,” Sorina said softly.
The women were fixing their make-up, even as the tears continued to flow down their cheeks. He had empathy for the women, he was chocked to the point of tears himself, but a man must present a brave face.
“It’s time,” Martin said softly.
After a few more dabs from tissues, the women began to file out. Bryndis paused, giving Martin a lingering glance. He smiled, and she patted his cheek.
“There was a time I hated you,” she said softly, a tear in the corner of her eye.
Martin swallowed the lump in his throat. “There was a time I hated me, too.”
Bryndis took a deep breath, then slipped from the tent.
Sorina wiped tears from her cheeks. “Do I look presentable?”
Martin smiled. “You look beautiful. If anyone has a problem with you being emotional today, fuck ‘em”
“You sound like Thor.” She dabbed her eyes again.
Way to go, idiot. Make the girl cry some more. “Sorry… I didn’t mean…”
Sorina shook her head. “That was meant as a compliment… I never thanked you for everything you did,” she said, striding toward him.
He took her arm, patted her hand. “And you don’t have to.”
“I do,” she stated firmly. “Bryndis said you saved his soul. Do you believe that’s possible?” Her eyes searched his. Well, I guess I have to be more careful what I say to Bryndis Ang
antýrsdóttir!
Martin stared into her big brown eyes, feeling the warmth of her hand on his arm. Thor had called her his “Gypsy Queen”, describing her beauty to the crowd packed into Piccolo Gioiello. Martin suspected Sorina was much more than a passing infatuation to Thor. That crazy night, proved Thor was madly in love, willing to lay down his life to protect her. Some believed he sacrificed himself for the sake of the world, but Martin knew better.
“Without a doubt,” Martin replied with a firm nod.
He led Sorina from the tent. A warm breeze was blowing, the sound of soft music filled the air, mixing with the scent he could only describe as lavender soap. Martin’s knees felt as though they may buckle at any moment. Why was he so terrified to face the crowd in the large tent? It wasn’t as though he was to blame for what happened.
Chapter 49
A Stolen Apple
Thor’s heart skipped a beat as Sorina came into view. She was positively radiant, strolling down the aisle as graceful as any queen that had ever lived, commanding the adoration that was hers to have.
Thor, however, was a romantic, believing his bride had earned the right to such adoration. After all, it was his plan to shower her with it for the rest of his life.
Three months ago, he was on the ground, bleeding to death, not believing he would see the next hour, let alone this day.
Hlaðguðr Svanhvit leaned over, smiling. “You will be welcomed into the Hall of Heroes.” She pulled a golden apple from the pouch at her belt, forcing Thor to take a single bite. “But that time is yet to come.”
A hot rush swept through Thor’s body, burning away his wounds to leave him completely healed. Hel, the sixteen-year-old scar on his left knee from the junkyard’s barbed wire fence was even gone.
She rose with a laugh, then slung Hróðvitnir over her shoulder. “Come, Beast, you have done enough damage to this realm!” She glanced down at Thor, took a bite from the apple. “It is unheard of, that a Valkyrie comes for a warrior twice. Fear not, young warrior, I will be there when it is your time, son of Baldur.”
Hammer of the Gods Page 47