The other two couples were already seated at a large dining table. Platters of food filled the center. “Eat first. Then we talk,” the one called Maccus told them.
The scent of cooked meat teased her nostrils. She went for that first. The long strips of meat were crisp. She shrugged and popped one into her mouth. Salty, smoky goodness exploded on her taste buds. Anja closed her eyes and savored the taste. They’d smoked pork in her time, but it wasn’t nearly as delicious as this.
“That’s bacon,” Bjorn told her.
Why did they not have this in Freya’s Hall? The goddess had access to anything she wanted. She’d be willing to wager they had it in Valhalla. Those warriors who had tasted it before would demand it.
“It’s good.” Ignoring the others, she dug into the eggs and pancakes. Those she was familiar with. Food remained fairly traditional in the afterlife, but every so often there were changes and updates, mostly as the later generations of souls joined them.
Contrary to what some might believe, the afterlife was not static, but an ever-changing society, especially in Freya’s domain. The goddess was a stickler for the old ways in some things, but she encouraged learning and growth among her people.
With the worst of her hunger sated, she became aware of the silence surrounding her. She slowly lowered her eating utensil and picked up her knife, fisting the handle tight. The blade was surprisingly dull, but she’d make do if necessary.
Bjorn wrapped his hand around hers. “Keep it if it gives you peace of mind, but you do not need it.”
Maccus snorted. “That knife is of no use.” As if by magic, a dagger appeared in his hand. “Use this one.” With a casual flick of his hand, he sent it flying toward her.
She reached out to grab it, but Bjorn shot out a hand and intercepted it. Without pause, he flung it back toward his friend at lightning speed.
Anja gasped and jumped to her feet, ready to do battle to defend her mate after his rash action, but Maccus caught the weapon and it disappeared.
“What is going on?” None of the others seemed surprised by the exchange. She hated being the only one who didn’t understand what had happened.
“It’s a long story,” Bjorn began.
“Then start at the beginning.”
“Damn, I like her,” Morrigan whispered under her breath.
Her husband took her by the hand and tugged her back down to her seat. She went with some reluctance. A sense of foreboding washed over her.
“The beginning?” He nodded resolutely. “I found you and the children, your bodies mutilated by our enemies.”
Her breath rushed from her body. She’d wondered what had happened to their remains, if anyone had discovered them or if they’d eventually rotted or been devoured by animals.
She cupped his face in her hands, the devastation in his eyes almost more than she could bear. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
He lowered his head, as if unable to meet her gaze any longer. He was ashamed. She knew it as well as she knew her own name.
“Bjorn?” She applied pressure until he finally looked at her. “There was nothing you could have done.” The blame was not his to shoulder. “They came in the middle of the night like craven dogs, destroying all in their path. I grabbed an axe and fought.”
Tears filled her eyes at the stark pain reflected back from her husband’s face.
“Sven did his best to protect his brother and sister. He took them and ran as I’d taught him.”
A lone tear trickled down his face, almost lost among the tattoos on his cheek. “He made it as far as the barn. His brother and sister almost to the fields.”
She closed her eyes and nodded, not wanting to visualize the ending of their short lives. There was no way to eliminate his pain, but she could ease it.
“They were whole when I met them again. Sven had Olga in his arms and held Olaf’s hand. Freya came to me then and made the offer because of the bravery I’d shown. Because of the courage Sven had displayed for one so young in the face of such adversity, I was offered a rare gift.”
Pain enveloped her. It was the kind of agony a mother should never know. “They could remain with me, or be given a second life, their spirits reborn in other bodies, to other parents.”
“I’m sorry you had to face all of that alone.”
She was very aware of their audience but wasn’t ashamed of her tears or his. “I asked Sven what his choice was. Do you know what he said?”
The corners of Bjorn’s lips twitched. “I can only imagine.”
She gave a watery chuckle. “He is too much like his father. He faced Freya and told her he would take her offer. And while his younger siblings would forget their parents and move on, he would remember.”
Bjorn shook his head, but pride was etched on his face. “And how did the goddess respond?”
“She stroked her hand over his head and told him that perhaps he would, but only time would tell. Then our son looked at me and told me he would find me again once he’d lived his life.”
She didn’t resist when Bjorn lifted her out of her chair and onto his lap, needing the comfort that only his arms could provide.
A huge sigh sounded over several discreet sniffs. “The story will take forever at this rate. We do not have the time to indulge in emotions.”
“Maccus.” Morrigan smacked the big man in the arm. Her glare was fierce and her eyes red from tears.
“He’s right.” Bjorn opened his eyes, all signs of emotion wiped clean. “There will be time to mourn later. Right now, the gods are using us as pawns in their games. It never seems to end.”
Both Jo and Morrigan frowned. The one called Asher remained silent and watchful. She couldn’t get a read on him.
To forestall any further argument, Anja nodded. “I agree. There is a time to fight and a time to grieve. Now we must fight.”
Morrigan rubbed her hands over her eyes. “I get it. I’m sorry.”
Anja wasn’t sure if she was apologizing to her and Bjorn or to Maccus, but it mattered not.
“How are you still here?” she asked, needing answers. “You said you were part of a Brotherhood. How did it happen? What does it mean?” A shiver of dread snaked down her spine. “And how does it include the gods?”
…
Bjorn’s heart was being ripped from his chest. He called on the power of his wolf to steady him. The great beast crouched, waiting and ready to defend what he saw as theirs.
He glared toward the head of the table. “I’ll keep it short.”
Maccus leaned back in his chair and absently sipped a cup of coffee. “Good.”
Morrigan rolled her eyes, Asher grinned and shook his head, and Jo shot him a glance filled with sympathy. They all knew what it was like to lose someone precious to them, except Maccus. He’d lost his home, not a person, but he had a loved one to lose now, which was likely why he was so impatient.
They all needed to hear this, to understand how far he’d go to protect his wife, and what they were agreeing to if they stood by him.
All their lives were at risk.
They might fall under the rule of other pantheons, but as the current situation proved, sometimes the gods did one another favors, crossing lines that shouldn’t be crossed.
It was easier to tell the story with Anja in his arms, a solid reminder she was here with him now. “I went mad with grief. My life was over, and someone had to pay.” He was breathing heavily, his wolf howling inside him. He closed his eyes, not wanting Anja to witness the flames of retribution that surely danced there. His claws started to push out from his fingertips, but he willed them back.
“What did you do?” she asked.
He met her questing gaze. “I cried out to Odin, demanding he grant me the vengeance I sought.” And in doing so, created the first Norse werewolf. Such creatures existed earlier in other cultures, b
ut he was the father of the ones populating the world at this time.
Anja sucked in a breath, well aware there was always a price when the gods granted favors.
“I was arrogant, demanding he give me what I wanted.”
“At what cost?”
“Odin told me I’d have my revenge, but I’d also be taught a valuable lesson.” Talk about a huge understatement. “I would learn what vengeance and arrogance does to a man. I would walk in the footsteps of the ones I sought and do as they had done.”
“No.” Her soft whisper almost broke him. Shame and guilt bled from his pores and dripped from his words.
“I was an animal.” More true than she understood. “I hunted and killed them all.” And this was the part for which he would never forgive himself. “Then I hunted their families.”
Bjorn could taste the blood of his enemies, hear their screams of torment. It was always with him whether sleeping or awake. “I fought all those who tried to stop me, honorable men defending the innocent.” And in doing so, had turned them into monsters like himself.
“You were not yourself. Odin knew that and chose to give you what you asked for.”
“What I’d demanded.”
“If he’d ignored you, you would have hunted and killed the men who’d harmed us, but you would never have killed a woman or child in cold blood. That was a god’s doing, his curse on you. Those deaths are on his head, not yours.”
Her fierce conviction almost undid him.
“Do you understand me, Bjorn Knutson?” She gripped his shoulders and shook him. “That is not a stain on your soul. You were commanded by a god to do what you did.”
She was right, to a point. “I demanded it,” he repeated.
“The gods pick and choose who they listen to. You think you are the first to make demands? How many pleas have gone unanswered, yet yours was not?”
Not once in all the years he’d lived had he ever considered his situation from that perspective. He’d been too mired in guilt and blood. For the first decades, he’d been little more than a mindless animal, living only to kill.
“Now I know why you tried to kill me,” Jo muttered.
He heaved a sigh, wishing she’d kept that tidbit to herself.
Anja’s head snapped up. “You tried to kill her?”
“I didn’t mean to say that aloud. My bad.” The other woman offered Anja a tentative smile. “Another long story, but someone made it appear as though I was a descendant of one of the men who’d killed you.”
“What happened?” Anja asked him instead of Jo.
“I went to kill her.” His blood ran cold remembering how close he’d come to not only ending the life of an innocent woman, but also killing one of the few men he called friend.
“You couldn’t stop, could you?”
While he might not be telling her everything yet, he would never give an untruth to a direct question. “No. It was a compulsion pulsing through my blood, even when I questioned it.”
“But you didn’t kill her?”
“There was a time nothing would have stopped me. I’ve learned some self-control.” He ignored Maccus’s snort and Asher’s outright laugh. Though they’d known him all these long centuries, they had no idea how far he’d truly come.
“I’ve been brought to my knees,” he told his wife, blocking out the presence of the others. “My pride stripped. I am as much animal as man.” Then he said something he never thought he’d admit aloud. “The Brotherhood made me stronger. It was that bond that allowed me to get past the burning need to kill. Even then it was too close for comfort.”
“But you did it,” Asher reminded him. “I’m glad I didn’t have to kill you.”
He glared at his fellow Brother. “As if you could, bloodsucker.”
“Yeah, I can tell you’re not prideful anymore,” his friend shot back.
Anja went still in his lap. Eyes wide, face pale, she stared at Asher. “Bloodsucker?”
“Shit, I didn’t mean for that to come out.” He caught her chin and applied a light pressure until she looked at him. “Asher is the father of all vampires, a gift from an Egyptian goddess. Sunlight doesn’t harm him as it does all other vampires.”
“Okay.” Her face was pale, her body lightly trembling against his. He was doubly glad he’d kept the little tidbit about him being a wolf to himself for now.
She was the bravest and best woman he’d ever known, but everyone had their limits before they broke. She needed time to acclimate to everything. Unfortunately, time was the one luxury they didn’t have.
“Does that have something to do with this Brotherhood you’re part of?” she asked.
“We are the Forgotten.” Maccus spoke before Bjorn could, his deep voice reverberated throughout the room. “We are those creatures the rest of the world, including our own kind, want to forget. We are the boogeyman in the closet and under the bed for all paranormals. We mostly leave humans to their own fates, unless they interfere in ours. We are assassins.”
Chapter Six
She waited for Bjorn to deny the claim and was met with a silence that was deafening.
An assassin?
“What does that mean?” she demanded.
“It means we are the ones who handle paranormals who need to be put down.” In spite of his earlier claims, arrogance and pride sat on his shoulders, as much a part of him as the color of his hair. His lips were flattened, making the tattoos on his face appear even more threatening. His eyes narrowed, the blue depths sharp and filled with intelligence.
“And who decides which paranormals need to be put down?” That kind of power was dangerous. It was the sort of things the gods would do.
“We do.” He didn’t flinch from her regard. “We research long and hard, but if a vampire or werewolf or demon or some other creature goes rogue, we act. Humans can’t protect themselves well against such creatures. Hell, even the leaders of their own species come to us for help.”
He held his hands out in front of him, his fingers long and thick. “I’ve spilled blood. I’ve taken lives. I make no apology for that. The only deaths on my conscience are those of the innocents I took when still in the grips of my grief.”
“And Odin’s curse.” She would not let him bear the brunt of that on his own. “I’ve been around the gods more than you. I’ve seen how they operate.”
Even the great gift Freya had given her had come with a price—the memory of her erased from her children while she could recount their lives in great detail. And eternal service in her great hall.
She’d never for one day regretted her choice.
“Are there more of you?” she asked.
“There are. We are all different.” Bjorn glanced away. That was not like him. He was always direct and plainspoken.
A sick sensation invaded her stomach. What wasn’t he telling her?
“They believe I willingly left the afterlife?” It was time to try to put away her concerns and questions about this mysterious Brotherhood her husband was part of and figure a way out of the mess she’d landed in.
“Yes. I was ordered to kill you for your audacity. Souls can’t just leave the afterlife.”
“And they should know that.”
“When do the gods bother with such details?” He rubbed his hand over his tightly cropped beard. “They rarely look to themselves when something goes wrong.”
“Will you hand me over to Odin?”
“Never.” The words were as fierce as the expression on his face. “I will die for you.”
The vow did not ease her pain but rather added to it.
“I cannot lose you, too.” The grief would destroy her. The only thing that had kept her sane was the hope that her loved ones were safe. A detail nagged at her, something that didn’t make any sense. “Why have the gods not found me? It should be easy
enough for them.”
Maccus had a dagger in his right hand, flipping the blade through his fingers with an ease that was truly astounding. “The gods tend to give orders and expect others to carry them out. They rarely do any dirty work on their own.” Then he pointed to a wall. For a brief second, symbols appeared before vanishing. “My home is also heavily warded. While they could enter, it would take a lot of work on their part and weaken them considerably.” His smile sent a shiver down her spine. “And while they were weak, they know I’d slaughter them for their sheer arrogance of arriving unannounced. It’s a fairly new addition to my home after I got an unexpected visit from an archangel.”
Maccus was even more powerful than she’d imagined. “Archangel? That is Christian, yes?”
He inclined his head.
“We can’t stay here.” Her mere presence put these people in danger. Bjorn’s hands tightened on her, but he didn’t disagree. She pointed at Maccus. “You’re part of the Christian faith.” Then she pointed at Asher. “Egyptian.” When Asher inclined his head, she continued. “We can’t start a war between the pantheons, and that’s what will happen if we shelter here.”
“I know.” The sadness in Bjorn’s voice ripped at her heart. “We must face our gods on our own.”
“Fuck that.” The knife in Maccus’s hand disappeared between one heartbeat and the next. Anja wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to it. It seemed to be a gift of sorts, as none of the others seemed the least bit surprised by the action. “We are the Forgotten Brotherhood, abandoned by our own.”
“Until recently,” Bjorn corrected. “You have come to some reconciliation with your God, have you not?”
Maccus gave a reluctant nod while Morrigan inclined her head in agreement.
“And you have just been given a great gift from Sekhmet. You do not need to lose it.”
Anja had no idea what that gift was, but Jo went pale and Asher growled, sharp fangs flashing. She was so out of her depth with this group her husband was part of.
“We can check things out on our end.” Asher looked to Maccus and got a quick nod. “If Lucifer made some kind of pact with Loki and we can prove it, then maybe your gods will allow Anja to go back to the afterlife.”
Bjorn Cursed Page 5
