Battle Cry (Loki's Wolves Book 2)

by Melissa Snark

"On purpose."

  "No. No. Not on purpose!" Loki stomped his feet, hopping in rage. "Baldur's death gained me nothing! Frigg herself told me not to concern myself with the damned mistletoe."

  Primordial magic threatened to consume his mortal vessel in a fiery blaze. Dark, dangerous things, too awful to be named, writhed within his soul. "You knew better than to listen."

  "I warned you not to defy the Norns. Fate is a tricky bitch who comes back to bite you every time," Loki shouted, waving his fist. "Frigg had no business trying to make Baldur invincible. She painted a target on his back."

  Reaching across his body, Jake drew his enchanted weapon. The tattoo vanished from his arm, and the molten knife appeared in his hands. "We have argued about this more times than I can count." Words led to words, always the same. "Say something new or get off my butte."

  "Nice subversion." Smiling in pointed admiration, Loki trotted out the consummate charm that served him so well. Old Silver Tongue.

  "Thanks." Nonplussed, Jake hesitated, but curiosity got the better of him. Sighing, he asked, "Why are you here, Loki?"

  "I'm intrigued."

  "About me?"

  The Trickster's chin dipped. "You're different from the old man who sits on his throne, day in and day out, apathetic to the world outside his halls."

  "How so?" Jake grew guarded. Oftentimes, Loki saw too deeply, perceived too much, deadly insight he employed as a weapon.

  "You're like the Wōden I remember from the primordial times." Soulful wolf eyes regarded him with sorrow. "Before the days had names, when the world tree was a sapling."

  "I am the hunt."

  "Riiight." Loki rolled the word around on his tongue for a time. Then his visage hooded. "Why have you cut yourself off from your precious foresight, brother? You gouged out your own eye to attain it. Now I'm to believe you've now turned your back on prophecy?"

  "I care not what you believe."

  Loki tsked. "Then what's with the mortal coil? It's perverse, a god walking among men wearing a meat suit."

  Jake grunted. His anger further dissipated, spiraling into resignation. In all the Nine Worlds, he owned no man, creature, or god an explanation. Why then did he find himself playing 20 Questions with the Trickster?

  "You do it." Jake willed the dagger to return to his forearm, and it did.

  Loki grinned. "I'm perverse. You're not."

  He was tired, tired of Loki's games, tired of everything. He had too much to do before the final days descended. Overcome with impatience, he turned his back and headed toward the compound. His boots crunched in the dry desert dirt.

  "Hey, where are you going? This is just getting interesting." Loki appeared before him, blocking his path. "Tell me why, and I'll leave."

  Exhaling, Jake stopped. To be rid of the clever meddler, he'd entertain the notion of answering one more question. "Tell you what?"

  "I've been to Valhalla. I've witnessed the apathetic lump your greater aspect has become. He sits on his throne, whispering secrets with the embalmed head of a long dead dwarf. And they call me mad." Loki spoke swiftly, weaving words and hands. "Yet, here you are, an insignificant avatar, still trying to defy the Norns. You tried to save that she-wolf from her death even though you must have known her life thread had been cut."

  "Lenna." His voice echoed the emptiness in his soul. He had failed her.

  Loki huffed, expanding. "It's the same with Sawyer. His fate has been carved into the trunk of the World Tree, his destiny decided. I get that he's your son, so you want to save him. You're nothing if not predictable. But do you really think you'll get away with it?"

  Why? Why did he always make the mistake of engaging Loki? Vein throbbing in his temple, Jake stared at his bitter adversary, allowing centuries of presumption and grievous mistakes to roll like a long line of credits at the end of a film. Sickness worsened inside him as all of the pieces fell into place.

  "It was you," Jake said at last, speaking with absolute certainty. "You arranged Daniel's murder, the theft of his soul, these vampire attacks. Vildivia and the Necromancer—"

  "Arranged is a strong word," Loki interrupted. "I orchestrated certain events to unfold as I desired. Did you enjoy the draugar? I arranged them just for you. A touch of nostalgia. The players in my game always had free will. I didn't force Sawyer to shoot that wolf boy in the back. I didn't trick you into openly defying the Norns. I only set the stage to see what you'd do."

  Incensed, Jake's hand shot out and closed on the Trickster's throat, crushing his airway. Loki choked and writhed in his grasp. With one arm, he lifted the god of lies off his feet and held him high. He roared, "Betrayer!"

  Loki dissolved into a thousand mobile specks. Ants swarmed Jake's hand and arm. His skin itched and burned from multiple bites while the colony scurried down his body to form a living pool at his feet. Vengefully, he crushed hundreds of insects beneath his boots, but the massacre didn't prevent the insects from retreating at a rapid pace.

  Twenty feet away, Loki reformed, rubbing his throat. He mocked, "Temper, temper. Don't lose yours, dear friend."

  On the verge of abandoning his humanity, Jake stopped dead in his tracks. If he pursued Loki, he'd succumb to temptation and leave everything and everyone he loved behind. He had obligations and responsibilities. People were counting on him. His boys, even stubborn Sawyer, needed him.

  "You're going to pay for what you've done to my family, Loki," Jake vowed, a promise he intended to fulfill by any means necessary. If he had to employ all of the knowledge, magic, and power at his command, he would.

  Loki sneered. "I'm your family, brother."

  "No longer. I'll make you pay for this."

  "Is that so?" Loki croaked hoarsely. His eyes glittered, black diamonds in an empty void of a face. "How? Let me hazard a guess. You'll punish my children. Again. Is that why you're setting up that little girl? Seducing her with your glorious power?"

  Jake stumbled. His brow knit, and without thinking he defended his actions. "My intentions toward Victoria are honorable."

  A bitter smirk twisted the Trickster's lips. "Really? You drove a wedge between Freya and Victoria when you made her your priestess. Are you going to stand by your promises when the time comes for her to fulfill her fate? Or will you turn on her the way you turned on me?"

  Before Jake formulated a reply, Loki transformed into a hawk, and the wind caught his wings. He soared high into the sky and disappeared in a flash.

  Grunting in disgust, Jake shook his head. "Damn know-it-all always has to have the last word."

  Midgard

  Throughout the Sierra Pines High School campus, multiple bells clamored in unison. Victoria's palms pressed into the rough textured plaster of a yellow wall. She stood just outside the main office with Morena. A steady stream of students trickled by on their way to their first period classes.

  "Are you sure about this?" Victoria scrunched her nose and cast a dubious glance at the sign announcing a basketball game that coming Friday. The billboard proudly displayed the school's mascot, Mannie the Marmot, an anamorphic rodent clad in a cap and little red jacket. The varmint's buck teeth were bared in a snarl of aggression.

  "Yes! Sure!" Morena bobbed on the balls of her feet, arms swinging. Her entire long, lean body engaged in constant motion, vibrating as if the teenager might fly apart in a thousand directions all at once. "I told you, I'm okay with starting in the middle of the school year. I know it'll be tough, but I can handle it!"

  "It's not that, and I know you can handle it." Victoria smiled even though she harbored concerns the Hispanic teenager might have trouble fitting in at the predominantly white school. Just a glance at the expensive automobiles in the student parking lot reinforced her worries, but she concealed them from the girl behind a front of unshakeable confidence. Anyone who didn't adore smart-mouthed Morena wasn't worth the time or effort.

  But a cool car would help. She'd have to take a close look at the finances and find a way to swing a sweet ride for the teen,
even if it meant letting her borrow the Chevelle.

  "What then?" Morena's gaze skittered to the side, and her body followed, sliding toward the thinning crowd of teenagers on their way to class.

  "Are you sure you want to attend a school where the mascot is a giant rodent?" Victoria flashed a wolf's smile. "Seriously, the Fighting Marmots?"

  Morena grinned. "Aww, marmots are cute."

  The teenager took a giant stride backward, creating distance between herself and her Alpha. The wolf rose in her eyes, gleaming bright with laughter. "They taste great too!"

  She braced. Here came the hard part, letting go. Waving her hands, Victoria shooed the girl. "Go on. Get going. You're gonna be late."

  "Bye!" In a flash, Morena whirled and bolted, darting around the remaining stragglers. Without slowing, she disappeared around a corner.

  Shaking her head, Victoria returned to the parked SUV where Sylvie waited in the passenger seat. A skein of yarn rested on the center counsel, feeding the whirling knitting needles clutched in the older woman's hands.

  As Victoria climbed into the driver's seat, Sylvie looked up and smiled. "How did it go?"

  "Great. She seems genuinely happy to be back in school." Reaching for the keys already in the ignition, Victoria turned on the engine. For a second, she stared at the steering wheel, doubt assailing her. Was she making the right decisions for her pack?

  Sylvie's warm hand patted her elbow. "It's tough, I know, but you're doing your best, Victory. No one can ask for more."

  She tilted her face to the side to offer her friend a smile. "I hope so, Sylvie. I hope so." She took a deep breath. "Now that we're alone, we need to go somewhere and have a long talk."

  "Sounds ominous." Sucking in her cheeks, Sylvie eyed Victoria.

  "It is."

  Weary of speaking, Victoria finally wrapped up her story. "So, the three sisters have prophesized that I'll act in service to Loki and use Vanadium to cut Fenrir's bonds, freeing him to kill Odin. All to save my daughter from being killed on the eve of her third birthday."

  Victoria cast a glance over her shoulder, concerned with her companion's persistent silence throughout the entire recounting of her spirit quest to visit the Norns. Sylvie's face was wan and drawn, her hunched over posture conveyed tension. The older woman had yet to share her opinion.

  With a sigh, Victoria bent and placed the bunch of lilies beside the granite headstone. Extending her hand, she traced her fingers over the name inscription—Arik Koenig. Explained aloud, her spirit quest to visit the Norse Fates sounded more than a little crazy, but then consultations with the Norns seldom yielded predictable results.

  "I promise you, my mate," Victoria whispered. "I'll keep our daughter safe." Her hand fell from the engraving, and she rose to stand beside Sylvie.

  The late afternoon weekday yielded a cemetery empty of visitors except for the two women. Victoria chose the graveyard as the venue for her storytelling because it offered relative isolation and privacy from prying ears.

  "Arik being buried here doesn't seem right," Sylvie's voice emerged as a rough croak, poignant and powerful. "Our people aren't meant to be buried in the earth, but to be cremated on a funeral pyre."

  "Arik's body isn't here, Sylvie. This grave is merely for show, a memorial for the humans who knew him." Victoria studied her friend, wondering what went on behind Sylvie's thoughtful expression. "He is with Our Lady of the Vanir. He is Freya's chosen general, leading her army."

  Sylvie's head bowed. "Yes, of course. I'm having difficulty absorbing the magnitude of what you've told me. It was already difficult just trying to accept hunters as part of our pack without learning that Ragnarök is upon us."

  "I'm sorry. I know it's a lot to take in." Victoria's decision to share everything with her friend had been a difficult one. But her ordeal with the hunters had hammered home one undeniable truth—she couldn't bear every burden alone. She not only wanted but needed a dependable confidante. She trusted Sylvie more than anyone.

  Sylvie looked at her with bright eyes. "What are you going to do?"

  Her gaze focused on the distance as she envisioned the future. "Call for a meeting of the packs and bring this war with the hunters to an end. We need to unify our people against the undead if we're to survive."

  The skald's lips tugged into a smile. "I meant regarding the prophecy."

  "Oh." Victoria huffed. "That."

  Sylvie's head swooped in a nod. "Yes, that."

  "I'll do everything in my power to prevent the prophecy from coming to pass, but first and foremost, I'm going to protect my daughter," Victoria said with the determination born of a mother's love.

  A contemplative silence ensued before Sylvie spoke again. "Have you considered that such a course of action may be precisely what brings about the end?"

  A harsh bark of laughter escaped Victoria. Hollowness echoed within but also the determined flame of hope. She could not, must not, give up before she began.

  "Yes, but doing something is better than doing nothing," Victoria said. "I may sit with my hands folded in my lap, and it may still come to pass that I cut Fenrir's bonds, bringing about Odin's death, which makes me responsible for the end of the world. No matter what I do, I'm second-guessing Loki. God of lies."

  Sylvie frowned. "Loki is a trickster. If you wish to thwart his desire, then you must be constantly on your guard."

  "I know." Victoria's hands crept to her abdomen, protectively crossing over the life growing in her womb. "But I have a plan."

  Through narrowed eyes, the skald stared at her Alpha. "What will you do, Victory?"

  Victoria's gaze returned to her mate's grave. In her mind's eye, the faces of all the loved ones already lost haunted her. Her heart ached but hardened. Many more would follow. She did not know how much more loss she could bear before she broke.

  She inhaled. "I'll do whatever I have to."

  Sylvie placed her arm about Victoria's shoulders and hugged her Alpha. "No matter what, know you're not alone, sweetie."

  Victoria embraced her best friend. Together, the two women strolled toward the cemetery entrance. "Sylvie?"

  "Hmm?" The older woman regarded her with curiosity.

  "Will you teach me to knit? I have a pile of Freya's golden hair just begging to be made into a baby blanket."

  "Absolutely, Victory. We'll get right on that."

  About the Author

  Melissa Snark is a paranormal and romance author with a particular interest in werewolves and Norse mythology. Her Loki's Wolves series combines elements of both in a contemporary fantasy setting. She lives in Northern California with her husband, three children and a glaring of cats.

  Visit Melissa at

  http://www.melissasnark.com/ or http://www.thesnarkology.com/

  Join her mailing list to be notified of new releases.

  OTHER BOOKS BY MELISSA SNARK

  A Cat's Tale

  Learning to Fly

  The Mating Game

  Cuffed (Free Read)

  The Child Thief (Loki's Wolves)

  Hunger Moon (Loki's Wolves)

  Battle Cry (Loki's Wolves)

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  BATTLE CRY

  COPYRIGHT © 2014 by Melissa Snark

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: admin@nordiclightspress.com

  Cover Art by Farah Evers

  Nordic Lights Press

  PO Box 1347

  Pleasanton, CA 94566

  Learn more at www.nordiclightspress.com

  Publishing History

  Nordic Lights Press, First Editi
on, December 2014 || 978-1-942193-02-9

  Published in the United States of America.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author respects trademarks and copyrighted material mentioned in this book by introducing such registered items in italics or with proper capitalization.