“Get used to it, Thrym,” Freyr said with an insolent edge. “We’ve suffered losses today, but the survivors all owe their skin to one particular human.”
Freyr reached out to place his hand on Sally’s shoulder, but she shrugged away from him.
Freyr leaned toward her and lowered his voice. “Sally, listen, about before.”
Sally shook her head and stepped back. “No, it’s okay.”
“Sally. I’m sorry.”
“No, forget it.” She turned her back on him and headed toward Freya. As she stepped across the floor, avoiding the greasy stains as much as possible, she noticed a silver mist beginning to snake across the linoleum.
“Umm, do I need to be worried about this?” She pointed to the floor.
Freya jumped to her feet. The sparkling silver mists were returning, flowing across the floor from the nets lining the walls and entrances.
Thor shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. “Don’t you have some kind of control over this?”
Freya shook her head, her eyes wide. “This shouldn’t be happening.” She looked up sharply at Freyr. “You said Iduna died?”
Freyr nodded. “Yeah.” He paused a beat, then added, “I think Maggie has something to tell you about that.”
Freya glanced down and followed the path of the mists across the floor. They swirled together into a slowly turning vortex, centered on the spot where Maggie knelt in front of Thrym.
“Well,” Freya said with a bemused smile. "Will you look at that."
Thor took a few steps forward to see what the fuss was about. But with the floor now obscured by the mists, his boot heel skidded on one of the dark slicks of incinerated Køjer Devil. His feet went out from under him, and he landed squarely on his backside with a loud yelp.
Red-faced and growling his displeasure, Thor checked the soles of his boots. They were covered in dark goo. “Yeah. I’m going to have to burn these.”
Sally stood ankle deep in the swirling mists and watched Freya and Maggie work on Thrym's and Thiassen's battle wounds. She felt the colored marker in her jeans pocket and wondered if her bindrunes would have made a difference for Geirrod and Iduna, or if her markings would have prevented Thrym and Thiassen from getting hurt.
But Iduna and the Frost Giants had been stubborn, refusing her protective sigils. As strong as her magick had proven these past days, Sally couldn't force it on anyone.
And now it looked like Maggie was joining the ranks of Odin’s Lodge. Sally decided immediately that she didn't envy her. It was already a complicated task trying to navigate the Norse pantheon as a human ally, but Sally figured Maggie's whole world was about to change. Permanently.
I'll stick to being the Moon Witch, Sally thought to herself, then the back of her neck prickled with the memory of Freyr's words on the roof. Opal was right—and maybe so was Managarm, for that matter. Sally was a part of Odin's Lodge, but she was not of his family or kin. Whatever magickal mantle rested on her shoulders by fate or tradition, she was just a girl—a girl who defied the gods and flew to Norway to tangle with Frost Giants and help battle prehistoric tyrannosaurus men with enchanted art supplies, but still just a girl.
Sally smiled.
20
Maggie stood at the head of the bier and exhaled just as the last ember of the funeral pyre faded to ash. She closed her eyes and raised her arms to the sky.
“Iduna, Goddess of the Sacred Grove,” Maggie sang in solemn tones. “We commend your body to the trees and the soil, and your spirit to the Halls of Valhalla.”
“Valhalla,” she heard the others echo back to her.
Opening her eyes, Maggie paused to look down at the gray figure lying on the blackened wood before her. Undisturbed, the ash still held the delicate features of Iduna’s face and the smallest folds of her gown.
Maggie avoided making eye contact with the Frost Giants, the Moon Witch, Heimdall and his kin surrounding the cooling pyre. Somewhere on the periphery of consciousness, she could hear the crowding of mundane thoughts—wondering what day it was, stressing about hotel reservations and her credit card balance, freaking out about being suddenly thrust into a divine role for which she'd had no preparation. They buzzed like gnats around her head. She took a breath and felt the tingling mantle of knowledge and power settle over her again.
Maggie lifted her face to the sky. “Stags of the Four Winds. Dáinn. Dvalinn. Duneyrr. Duraprór. I call on you to lift up the dusty remains of this servant of the Cosmos, friend of the Yggdrasil, beloved of Bragi.”
She felt a breeze pick up and spiral around her, gentle at first but quickly gaining strength. “Scatter this sacred ash so that it might nourish and restore the grove she loved. I call on the Valkyries. Perform your sacred duty and escort this worthy soul to the feast tables of the dead.”
Even if the Valkyries are technically now a American war veterans biker gang. Maggie almost smiled at that thought, then immediately knew somewhere deep in her bones that there was more than one band of Odin's messengers ferrying the honored dead to their eternal reward.
As Maggie’s gold-brown hair whipped around her shoulders, the burnt bier and figure of ash disintegrated together onto the whirlwind that lifted up the cold remains of the pyre and scattered them to every corner of Iduna’s Grove.
In moments, Iduna’s ashes were gone and the ritual was complete.
“Well, that’s that, then.” Maggie rested her hands on her hips, suddenly self-conscious in her blue jeans and fair isle sweater. Should she now adopt the flowing robes that Iduna preferred? Or would her every day clothes be acceptable?
Those robes probably were Iduna’s every day clothes, when she first became immortal. A chill ran down Maggie’s spine.
Thrym was the first to approach her, head bowed even as he towered over her. “You did well,” he said. “Thank you for including us in this rite.” He nodded toward Valthrudnir and Thiassen, still holding his healing arm close to his body.
“If you want, I can do something for Geirrod, too,” Maggie replied.
“That is kind, but no,” Thrym said gruffly. “Our brother will be honored in our own ways.”
Maggie nodded as the King of the Frost Giants moved on. She waited for the others to approach her, but they remained on the opposite side of the clearing, talking among themselves and looking up at the sky. She’d at least expected Freya—or even Heimdall—to come say something to her, but they’d all kept a respectful distance since the battle with the Køjer Devils at IKEA the day before.
Rolling her shoulders back, Maggie lifted her chin and started toward the others. As soon as she was within a few paces, they stopped talking and all turned to face her.
Maggie stood before them, waiting.
Sally finally broke the silence. “I liked what you said. It was nice.”
“Thanks,” Maggie replied with a smile, then she shrugged. “This whole thing is going to take some getting used to.”
Sally laughed. “Tell me about it.”
Maggie caught Heimdall’s eye and opened her mouth to speak to him, but Thor stepped in front of her.
“Maggie.” Head slightly bowed, the lumbering god of thunder made eye contact only briefly, then looked down at her feet. “I don’t really know the protocol. That’s more Frigga’s thing.” After a moment, he reached for her hand and took it gently in his own. “Welcome to the Lodge.”
“Thank you,” Maggie sighed in relief. Before she could start a proper conversation, Thor released her hand and stepped away.
“I really don’t get it,” Maggie mumbled.
“It’s going to take some time,” Freya said as she appeared at Maggie’s side. Freya lifted her hand as if to drape her arm over Maggie’s shoulder, but then hesitated.
Maggie sighed sharply. “Why is everyone so afraid of me? Am I really so different all of a sudden?” At this outburst most of the others dispersed, giving Maggie a wide berth.
“I don’t know that it’s fear so much,” said Freya, who h
adn’t budged. “It’s been a while since this kind of thing has happened. Since we added someone new.”
“Okay.” Maggie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and pushed up the long sleeves of her sweater. The rune markings on her arms had begun to fade, thanks to an hour-long soak in a hot bath and copious amounts of lavender salt scrub. “But it’s not like you guys don’t already know me.”
Freya laughed lightly and placed a hand on Maggie’s shoulder. “Maggie, you didn’t step into just any role here.”
Maggie looked into Freya’s eyes and frowned. “Iduna was a cranky old bat. At least, that’s the impression I got in the short time I knew her.”
“Well, yeah.” Freya nodded. “But she was also the Goddess of the Grove—and she very deliberately passed that station to you.”
“Okay.” Maggie looked out at the bare trees that circled the clearing. “So I’m in charge of growing apples and stuff? Big deal.”
“Maggie,” Freya began, searching for the right words. “You know how important these apples are.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “The Goddess of the Grove literally holds the power of life and death over the rest of us. So, it is a big deal.”
Maggie felt the breath rush out of her lungs. She searched for Heimdall and spotted him sitting a fair distance away under one of the barren trees.
“Goddess of the Grove,” Maggie whispered. She turned away and headed into the trees.
Sally watched Maggie disappear into the trees.
Looking around now at the sacred grove, she expected some mystic thrill but didn’t feel anything special. Every tree had been stripped bare of fruit and leaves and was coated in a hard, black residue.
Freyr touched his brow in friendly salute as he walked past her into the trees beyond, but he didn’t say a word. Sally felt a small pang in her gut as she watched him pass, but it faded quickly.
Sally caught sight of Loki standing beneath one of the trees. He was running his fingers lightly along a blackened branch.
“It almost looks like there was a fire,” Sally said as she approached.
Loki nodded toward a trio of slash marks in the trunk just above the ground.
Sally bent down to investigate. “Køjer Devils? How would they have gotten in here? Why would they even be interested?” She thought back to her first visit and the strange hissing sounds she’d heard in the mist as she waited by the grove’s threshold. She shuddered.
“They followed us,” she said flatly. “Or, they followed you all, at least.”
“So it would seem.” Loki settled down on the moss-covered ground and rested his back against the brittle tree trunk. “Normally, the grove wouldn’t have allowed entry to creatures like the Køjer Devils, but the mists must have been weakened by Iduna’s absence. The goddess is the heart of the grove.”
“That’s why Iduna had to stay here when the rest of you came to North America.” Sally looked to Loki, and he nodded in agreement.
“So, if Iduna and Bragi were married, why didn’t he stay here with her?”
Loki interlaced his fingers and rested his hands atop one of his knees. “Bragi was the Norse Bard. Who else would have woven the new adventures of Odin’s Lodge into poetry and song?”
“But no one stepped into Bragi’s shoes when he died,” Sally said as she sat down. “Not like Iduna passing her power or whatever over to Maggie.”
Loki closed his eyes. “No.”
Sally ran her palm lightly over the moss. It was springier than she would have expected, given the crackly state of the surrounding trees. She wondered for a moment how long it would take for the grove to come back to life. Would Maggie have to stay here to heal the trees?
Sally glanced over at Heimdall, still sitting by himself under a tree.
“There’s still something I can’t figure out.” Sally looked up at Loki.
The god of entropy cracked open one eye. “Just one thing?”
Sally smiled. “How come I never heard anything about Køjer Devils until now? You said you'd tell me.”
"Not precisely what I said, but you've certainly earned some answers." Loki looked up at the sky. “Remember your preparations for, what did you call it? Odin’s Return? And how easily things went astray?”
“Yeah,” Sally sighed, her shoulders sinking. She didn’t like being reminded that one little mistake in all of her diligent prep work the previous autumn might have been responsible for nearly bringing about Ragnarok.
“You worked hard to understand what you were dealing with, and to put it into context,” Loki said. “You pored over every historical and magickal source you could find, yes?”
Sally nodded.
“Now imagine some other good-intentioned magickal soul, but minus the same work ethic. Someone who wouldn’t bother with as much research or who wouldn’t think that context, whether in history or legend, really mattered.”
I know some people like that, Sally thought as she absently traced Berkana, the symbol of fertility and healing, on the moss with her finger. Then she cringed when she remembered it was that same witchier than thou haughtiness that had gotten her into trouble before.
“Okay,” she said.
Loki nodded. “Consider what would happen if such a person actually had some real magick in them, and they uncovered something that sounded uniquely intriguing—perhaps an ancient history that led them to believe they’d found a way to end dependence on oil or to reverse global warming,” he said, offering Sally a knowing smile. She tried not to look away.
“But in reality,” Loki continued, “suppose the source from which they’d lifted this magickal bit of text was the original Køjer Devil formula for igniting the world’s petroleum reserves? Something that would ultimately send enough poisonous smoke into the atmosphere to block out the sun and kill every living thing on the planet?”
“That’s what the devils were up to?”
Loki shrugged.
“Yeah, that would be bad.” Sally looked down at her hands clasped in her lap. “So you’re saying there was deliberately no history of them, to prevent someone else from getting the same idea, either accidentally or on purpose.”
Loki leaned back against the tree, and the crisp bark crackled under his weight. “Odin’s ancestors were wise to erase any trace of them.”
Sally wondered what else had been erased from the Norse sagas. “But that’s a stupid plan. Wouldn’t the Køjer Devils just end up killing themselves, too?”
“Eventually.” Loki pulled a pack of gum from his pocket and offered Sally a piece, but she shook her head. He unwrapped a slender stick of peppermint and folded it into his mouth.
“The devils are heat-seeking creatures, but not too fond of UV rays. I suppose they’d bore underground into the hot springs and languish there awhile. But, yes, sooner or later, they’d effectively be eliminated themselves.” He chewed for a moment. “From what little I know of them, they weren’t exactly celebrated for rational thought.”
Sally stretched her arms over her head and yawned. She really hoped Frigga wouldn’t make her write up some kind of report of her trip to Norway, as punishment for defying orders. But she was still curious. “So that’s why everyone was so afraid of them? That they were unpredictable and just randomly destructive?”
“And powerful.” Loki rested his head back and closed his eyes. “And the fact that they’re essentially cousins to the dinosaurs.”
“Really?” Sally perked up. Nothing she’d read, from the Prose Edda to the Sörla Tháttr, mentioned anything about dinosaurs. She’d been wondering lately how the Norse creation myths figured into the Big Bang, plate tectonics and Darwinism, but she hadn’t yet worked up the courage to ask.
But she had seen the resemblance with her own eyes. “Tyrannosaurus men.”
Loki cocked his head to one side. “Not a bad description, that. I’m hoping Midgard has seen the last of them.”
Sally’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re talking about the extinction of what could be a compl
etely unknown species. There isn’t anything in the fossil record about them—”
“Sally.” Loki looked at her and waited.
“Yeah, okay,” she conceded. “It’s good that they’re gone.”
Sally sat quietly, trying to remember how many unmarked Køjer Devil scales still lay scattered on the ground outside the grove's gate. Would it be enough for a new set of runes? How would the scales respond to magick now that the devils had been eliminated? She glanced sideways at Loki, who rested against the blackened tree with his eyes closed. She really hoped he couldn’t read her mind.
Thor walked over to stand next to his brother. Heimdall was sitting under a bleak tree, looking mopey. Thor nudged him with his boot.
“Are you going to be like this all the way home? I thought you said we’d see about some ships when this was over.”
That got a chuckle out of Heimdall, and he let Thor help him to his feet.
“Just tired, I guess.” Heimdall looked around at row after row of barren apple trees. “I’m really not looking forward to trying to explain all of this to Frigga and Odin.”
“Speaking of . . .” Saga headed toward them, waving her cell phone in the air. “I just got off a call to the Lodge. It’s amazing the cell reception you can get in here without Iduna’s mists swirling around and messing with the signal.”
She slipped the phone into her back pocket. “Do you think Sally could figure a way to work some kind of magickal enchantment on the satellite dish at the Lodge? You know, for a better signal, and maybe some extra TV channels? I’d really like to catch up on History Channel—"
“News from the Lodge?” Heimdall cut in.
“Yeah, so Odin’s pretty steamed,” Saga replied without missing a beat. “You know the Frost Giants escaped, beat up Heimdall—”
“They did not beat me up,” Heimdall interjected.
“That’s right. They took you out with a single punch,” Thor retorted.
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