Claimed by Gods_A Reverse Harem Urban Fantasy

by Eva Chase

  “It’s a charity for the homeless,” Ari said, tipping her head toward the building. “I saw another symbol on the hostel a couple streets over. No others so far.”

  I turned that information over in my head. “Ports for people far from home or without a home at all. People unlikely to be quickly missed.”

  Ari’s jaw tightened. “That’s what I thought too. But what would they want with people anyway? Why would they be hurting—killing—humans? Do they have something against us?”

  She still said “us” so easily, as if she weren’t so much more than mortal now. Bristling as if she were preparing to defend the entire human race.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “It’s not their standard modus operandi. But whatever ghastly business they’re into, we’ll uncover it and put a stop to it—you can be sure of that.”

  She nodded, turning on her heel, and her gaze jerked to the side. I’d caught a flicker of dark movement by one of the roofs too. “What was that?” Ari muttered, and before I had a chance to answer, she was already dashing toward it.

  “Whoa there.” I caught her by the waist—not roughly, but with just enough force to stop her. She’d put so much energy into her dash that the interrupted momentum sent her stumbling back against me. Her shoulders collided with my chest. My arm instinctively eased around her, my head dipping next to hers. “Always in such a rush, pixie.”

  She shoved out of the loose embrace and spun around with a ragged breath, still close enough that its warmth grazed my throat. Behind the already fading flash of panic in her dilated eyes, there was a shadow of desire. The sight of it went straight to my cock.

  Our valkyrie didn’t like to be held, but some part of her craved my touch.

  “Why did you stop me?” she demanded.

  I reined in my own cravings, the ones I’d been trying to ignore now stirring more insistently inside me. “You’re quick to race in, no fearful hesitation,” I said. “It’s commendable. No one would ever mistake you for a coward. But sometimes slow and careful gets the job done better.”

  “I can be careful,” she bit out. Her eyes were still stormy. She closed them for a second, swallowing audibly. “Maybe I’m a little wound up because of what I saw in those caves. Thinking about what those things might be doing to people—people who have no one to fight for them…” She looked at me again. “But you said you believed I can handle myself. I’m not going to do anything stupid.”

  “I know,” I said. “I do.” Faced with that unwavering gaze, I was run through with a piercing sensation from gut to breastbone.

  I’d brought her to this place, in more ways than one. I’d ripped her out of the blank peace of death to fight battles for gods she hadn’t even known existed. More than anyone, I should know the strain of being forced to play by rules I hadn’t agreed to. Perhaps I owed her a little more.

  “If I interfere, it’s not about you,” I said. “It’s about me, and how much is riding on us finding Odin. Getting back to Asgard.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I sighed. “My powers are fading faster than the others’ are. And every attempt we make at finding the Allfather that fails, you can be sure they’re more and more inclined to blame me. I’d rather not deal with that. All right? If I micromanage, you can attribute it to that. It’s certainly no failing on your part.”

  Ari wet her lips, holding my gaze. “Why would they blame you? You picked me, but the other valkyries—”

  I shrugged, letting a smile creep across my face. “What can I say? I’m a trouble-maker. So it’s easy to blame all possible trouble in the world on me.”

  Her expression tensed for a moment, as if she could relate to that idea more than I would have guessed. “So you picked another trouble-maker to have on your side.”

  My smile grew. “I suppose you could look at it that way. Although we’ll have to see whether you decide to be on my side after all.”

  She looked as if she might have had some snappy answer to that remark, but at the same moment, the dark flicker we’d seen earlier solidified into a bird. A raven. Which glided down from the rooftop it had hopped along and shifted into the shape of a young woman, her hair and eyes and the loose dress she wore as dark as her former feathers. None of the mortals blinked as she ambled toward us. They couldn’t see her either.

  Well, well, well. What a surprise, and yet perfectly fitting.

  Ari’s knife hand came up, her shoulders braced. I touched one lightly. “It’s all right. At least, no immediate threat. She ought to be a friend.”

  The valkyrie stayed tensed. It would seem she didn’t entirely trust me to have an accurate take on any given threat.

  “Loki,” the woman said in a voice that was sweet but slightly hoarse. “I’ve been looking for you.”

  “I’m not generally all that difficult to find if you’re really trying,” I said. “Assuming I don’t mind you finding me. I almost didn’t recognize you, Muninn. It’s been a long time.”

  The raven woman gave me a smile that recalled the angles of her beak. How many decades—or maybe even centuries—had it been since Odin had returned from one of his wanderings without his usual feathered companions? He’d never bothered to explain why they’d parted ways, beyond “It was time for them to seek something more,” in his typical cryptic manner. What had his former pets been up to since then?

  “It has been a while,” Muninn agreed. No doubt she knew the exact date and time we’d last been in each other’s company. I’d never seen her shift into human form before now, but it didn’t surprise me that she could. We all changed with the tides of time—and Odin’s ravens had been human enough in their affect.

  “Allow me to introduce Muninn,” I said to Ari with a sweep of my arm. “Mistress of memory and once one of Odin’s regular companions.” It certainly was interesting that she’d resurfaced now. I looked back to the raven woman. “Was there any particular reason you were looking for me?”

  She’d cocked her head in eerily bird-like fashion at Ari. “You got yourself a valkyrie,” she said. “Fascinating.”

  Ari bristled, but I knew she didn’t need any help from me here. “About as fascinating as a raven that can turn into a woman, I guess,” she said.

  Muninn simply blinked at her. “I’d imagine you’re here for the same reason I am.” She turned back to me. “I had a sense something unpleasant had happened to Odin. I’ve searched for him across Midgard but found no trace. Asgard is closed to me without his help, but he hasn’t heeded my call. All of which I find rather concerning. Don’t you?”

  “We do,” I said. “He isn’t in Asgard; I can confirm that much. I don’t suppose you’ve gleaned any clues as to his whereabouts?”

  “Not so far,” she said. “But I wanted to offer my help, if you’re searching as well. We always did find that two heads were better than one.” She smiled faintly as her halfhearted joke.

  “Where is Huginn these days?” I asked. Her partner, the raven of thought, had been gone just as long.

  She shook her head. “He went off on his own adventures. Eager to spread his wings, you might say. We haven’t spoken in a long time.”

  Her demeanor suggested nothing but concern and a little wistfulness, and Odin’s ravens had been nothing but loyal in the centuries they had been in our midst. I never trusted anyone or anything completely, but we might as well make use of her offer.

  “What have you seen of the dark elves?” I asked, and gestured to the carving on the wall. “Or symbols of theirs like these, here in Midgard? They seem to be tangled up in the matter somehow.”

  “I saw those marks in their caves, too,” Ari put in.

  Muninn frowned, studying the marks. “The dark elves hadn’t caught my attention, but I can think of a few places we should explore.”

  18

  Ari

  “You saw dark elves around this end of town recently?” Hod asked as we walked through a shabby neighborhood on the outskirts of Pittsburgh.

  M
uninn, who was leading the way, nodded. With her sharply pointed chin, the movement reminded me even more of the raven I’d watched her transform into and out of a few times now. It was more unsettling than Loki’s various shifts. At least he still moved completely like a man when he looked like one.

  “I don’t remember exactly when,” she said, her voice a weird mixture of rough and chirpy. “But it was in the last year. And those symbols you’ve pointed out—I came back yesterday to make sure they were the same ones. That’s what I can show you now.”

  Thor swung his hammer in an easy arc at his side. He’d detached it from his belt the second we’d arrived by our various magical or winged means. “If there are any dirt-eaters here now, they’ll regret sticking around.”

  Loki cut a glance toward the brawny god. “If there are any here now, we want to capture them so we can question them about the entrance to their realm. Not bash their heads in, satisfying as that might be.”

  He said it lightly, like he said just about everything, but the memory of yesterday’s conversation lingered in my mind: his seriousness when he’d admitted how much finding Odin mattered to him. It’d disappeared behind his usual joking façade a moment later, but the emotion in his words had resonated right through my heart. Remembering, I had the urge to step closer to him.

  Or maybe that was just a baser part of me, remembering the feel of his arm around my body.

  “We don’t know yet how involved the dark elves might be in Odin’s disappearance,” Baldur pointed out, bringing me back to the present.

  “They tore up Ari,” Thor grumbled. “They’re up to no good one way or another. That’s all I need to know.”

  “I think this may be one rare case where you can’t find the good in a situation,” Freya said, raising an eyebrow at the god of light.

  Baldur chuckled in his dreamy way. “Finding out what they know about Odin would be good, regardless.”

  “If we find them,” I said. So far I hadn’t seen any sign of anything supernatural in this rundown suburb. It was the middle of the day, but the clouds that had covered the sky this morning had dimmed the sun so much it felt like dusk. No sign of rain yet, though. Just muggy heat so thick you could practically carve it.

  “We’re almost there.” Muninn picked up her pace, her steps springy as she crossed the street. Halfway down the next block, she veered toward a bungalow that was even shabbier than its neighbors. The glass in one window had been broken, only shards poking from the frame. Half of one of the concrete front steps had crumbled.

  Five twisted lines marked the house’s cinderblock base.

  Muninn nudged the door, and it swung open with a squeal of its hinges. My skin prickled. I already didn’t like the vibe of this place. It reminded me too much of houses and apartments I’d passed through during my first couple years on the street, before I’d gotten enough of a foothold to steer clear completely.

  The room on the other side confirmed my suspicions. On the cracked linoleum floor between the scruffy armchairs, multicolored vials lay in a heap. A yellowed syringe sat on some smudged newspapers. The stink of old urine, chemical-laced smoke, and mildew assaulted me. I wrinkled my nose, edging around a frayed blanket stained with who-knew-what.

  “Crack house,” I said to the gods who’d filed in behind me. Hod was grimacing, and even Baldur looked a little ill. If I hadn’t already been sure the dark elves were targeting the people least likely to be noticed missing, I would be now.

  Freya edged farther into the room and toed a crumpled take-out box. “It doesn’t look as if anyone has been here in quite some time,” she said. “Look at the dust.”

  She was right. A thin layer of dust had collected on all the furniture, even the floor, disturbed only now by our feet.

  “That’s weird,” I said, looking around. “The place is still open. There’s even—” I prodded a deflated baggie with my toe. “They didn’t completely finish their drugs. But it doesn’t look like there was a raid either.” I’d witnessed one of those, briefly, during a mad scramble out a window and down a fire escape. This place was a mess, but it was a mess that was orderly by druggie standards, not the total chaos of a bunch of police officers having barged through. The house should have been boarded up if it’d been identified.

  “What do you think that means?” Thor asked, coming up beside me.

  “I don’t know.” I swiped my hand across my mouth, not wanting to say what I was thinking. But what was the point in denying it? “Maybe all of the people who were using this place were taken away, just not by cops.”

  Thor let out a growl. “Are you sure I can’t bash at least a few of them?” he said to Loki.

  The trickster god was eyeing the room with vague curiosity. “As much as I respect those who live along the fringes of society, this looks like the home of the absolute dregs,” he said. “I’m not sure whatever the dark elves did to them was any worse than they were doing to themselves.” His voice was matter-of-fact, but the usual gleam in his eyes had dimmed. He wasn’t anywhere near as unaffected as he was pretending.

  “That doesn’t mean they deserved it,” Thor snapped. His face flushed red.

  Loki shot him a mild glance. “Of course not,” he said. “I’m just pointing out that you might want to moderate your fury, or you’ll run out before we’re even halfway to the bottom of this.”

  Thor muttered something that sounded insulting under his breath, but he let go of the argument.

  “Well, there’s clearly no one here, human or elf, now,” Hod said. “If there’s nothing else useful to do in this place, can we move on?”

  Loki strode into the rooms that branched off from the first. “No secret elfy entrances, no more symbols, no clues that I can see,” he announced as he returned.

  “I’d hardly call that a thorough job,” Thor said. He marched past the trickster god to make a check of his own.

  Freya waved her hand in front of her nose. “While he’s doing that, can the rest of us leave?”

  “There’s another spot,” Muninn assured us, her eyes darting downward apologetically. “Closer to where I saw the elves themselves before. I hope we’ll find out more there.”

  After we’d been waiting on the tiny patchy lawn for a few minutes, Thor stomped back out, his expression grim.

  “This way!” Muninn said, darting on down the street.

  I fell into step beside the thunder god as we all trailed after her. I’d never seen him this upset before. And it was over a bunch of junkies.

  But if I’d had just a little less luck in those first years after I left home, I could have ended up in their place. They were still people. People the dark elves were going to have to learn to steer clear of.

  “You really care about them,” I said. “Everyone the dark elves might have hurt. Don’t you?”

  Thor heaved a breath and looked at me. His face still had that angry flush. “I’m the god of men. I’m supposed to protect your entire realm. I can’t do much about what you do to each other, as much as it pains me sometimes, but I should at least be able to stop other beings from preying on you. How long has this been going on without my even noticing?”

  He wasn’t just angry with the elves. He was angry with himself. The most powerful man I’d ever met felt powerless right now.

  A little ache ran through me. I had the urge to take his hand, whatever comfort that was going to give him.

  Oh, why the hell not? It didn’t have to mean much. He’d been there for me, and I didn’t doubt he would be again—as long as we had the same goals, at least.

  I reached for his hand and slipped my fingers between his much thicker ones, giving them a quick squeeze. A twitch passed through Thor’s muscles. A hint of the bright golden energy I’d felt from Baldur yesterday tingled over my skin. I guessed that was just what the life of a god felt like.

  Thor squeezed my hand back, as gently as I suspected he was capable of, which was still pretty firmly. My heart jumped at the brief sensation of be
ing pinned in place but steadied out the instant he relaxed his grip.

  “Ari,” he said, so low and tender my pulse thumped for a totally different reason.

  “Here!” Muninn called out from ahead of us. “This is the other place.”

  Thor’s jaw tensed. I let my hand slide from his as he hurried to join Muninn. Whatever he’d been going to say, he could say it later. Right now, I was really hoping he’d get to bash some dark elf skulls after all.

  The building Muninn pointed to was an elementary school. My hackles went up as we approached. Were these assholes taking kids? Hell yes, skulls definitely needed to be broken then.

  I saw the symbol right away, scratched into the concrete frame around the main doors. This one looked more recent to my eyes than the others had, which I guessed fit what the raven woman had said about the dark elves being here not long ago.

  It was a Saturday, so the building was dark. Loki motioned toward the lock, and the doors eased open. We all tramped inside.

  Our feet echoed loudly in the empty hall. Every school smelled the same, didn’t it? Like photocopied paper and cheap glue.

  A lump filled the bottom of my throat. It was too long since I’d seen Petey, since I’d really talked to him. I wanted the dark elves dealt with, but he came first. The next time I could slip away for a few hours, I was out of here.

  Freya peered into one of the classrooms we passed. “I suppose we should search the entire building for any signs?”

  “Or we follow this.” Hod stopped, rubbing his shoe against the floor with a rasp. A fine gray grit dappled the floor in a faint splotch. The kind of grit that might be left from someone passing by who’d been wandering in caves not long ago.

  Thor strode forward. “There’s more this way,” he said.

  We hustled after him around a bend in the hall and through a set of double doors that opened into a gymnasium. This part of the school smelled like old sweaty socks. I swiveled in the dim light, searching the floor and then the walls. “Why would they come in—”