“Are you mad?” Loki tried to loosen Thor’s grip on his shoulder. He only came up to Thor’s chin and he tried to back far enough away to address Thor’s face rather than his shirt buttons.
Thor let go and smiled smugly when Loki stumbled backward. “Who’s to say you’re not in league with Managarm?”
“Thor!” Frigga practically screeched.
Thor turned to his mother and gestured at Loki. “He’s closer kin to them than he is to us.”
“Now, wait just a minute, young man!” Frigga rounded on Thor and pointed a scolding finger in the general direction of his face. “Don’t you for a second think of dragging up old scores. Odin has welcomed him into the Lodge as one of us. If that’s not good enough for you, then perhaps you’d better find another place to hang your hammer.”
Thor puffed out his chest and growled, but he was done. He knew better than to cross Frigga. Even without her divine abilities, she was mistress of the Lodge—and his mother.
Frigga laid a consoling hand on Loki’s elbow.
Loki shook her off. “It’s all right. I would be worried if he didn’t suspect me.” He tried to laugh, but it felt flat.
“Are you certain Fenrir isn’t here?” Frigga asked.
Loki closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to catch the scent of his son on the air. His mouth was a hard line when he opened his eyes again. “He was in the area recently, but no longer.”
Thor threw the bolt cutters to the ground. “So you’re telling me we have to hunt the freaking Randulfr through the woods?”
“I’d better alert Heimdall.” Bragi pulled his phone out of his pocket and frowned at the display, which had suddenly gone dark. He tried shaking it and smacking the side of the phone a few times before Loki spoke up.
“That’s probably not going to work,” he said.
Bragi looked up at him.
Thor sighed and tilted his head at Loki. “God of chaos, remember?”
15
Sally sat near the campfire with Managarm’s consecrated runes laid on the ground before her. It was long past sundown, and she was alone in the camp with Managarm.
A half-dozen runes—Teiwaz, Mannaz, Isa, Nauthiz, Sowilu, and Laguz—formed a half-star crown pattern. The rest of the runes were divided into two vertical lines on either side, all of them covered with a fragrant dusting of charred sage.
Sally thumbed through her Book of Shadows self-consciously, cross-referencing her notes against the books scattered at her sides. She paid particular attention to the book on Freya’s rune spells she’d found at the bookstore that morning.
Managarm sat outside the tent and slowly turned the pages of a romance novel Opal had stashed in her purse, but Sally could feel his eyes on her.
She ran her fingers through her hair, which was falling out at an alarming rate, and tried to concentrate. Her phone rang for about the twelfth time since Opal was dispatched on another fast food run. Sally’s parents were calling again, and she was sorely tempted to answer. Her thumb gravitated toward the ACCEPT button.
“Why don’t you turn off your phone?”
Sally looked up at Managarm. “But it’s my parents. I only left them a note yesterday. I should let them know I’m okay.”
Managarm looked at her hard, his dark eyes blazing in the firelight. “They wouldn’t understand.”
“I won’t tell them anything. I just don’t want them to worry.”
The phone stopped ringing. Managarm smiled. “Your former life is over, little witch. Focus on your work for now. If you want to make explanations later, that’s up to you.”
“Okay.” Sally started to put the phone away.
“Don’t forget to turn it off.” Managarm spooned fresh coffee grounds into a brand new French press.
With a sinking feeling in her stomach, Sally powered down her phone. He’s an old god, she told herself. He knows better than I do.
She bent over her Book of Shadows. An excited shiver ran through her fingers as she made notes about how these new runes had glowed and even smoked as she chanted over them. Sally paused a moment, then haltingly scrawled:
“I never knew I had this kind of power! Always suspected I might have special abilities, and maybe this proves it. Maybe it’s because I’m working with the god Managarm. Managarm! He makes me nervous, but I’m helping him reach his goal, the same as mine, to heal the world. I can’t wait to see what I can do next!”
She frowned at her handwriting on the page, then added:
“Still, something doesn’t feel right.”
Sally capped her pen. Even compared to the previous day, it had been a pretty crazy afternoon. David carved up his chest in such a gruesome way, and then more Berserkers had stumbled into camp—a pretty dark-skinned lady named Rita; Peter, a boy Opal’s age wearing a Reed College sweatshirt and expensive jeans; and some old naked guy named Doug.
They’d each taken hold of Managarm’s knife and cut the same crescent moon symbol into their chests. Sally managed to hold it together when Rita and Peter gave themselves the mark, but when Doug grabbed the knife and started slicing into his already bare flesh, Sally had nearly fainted.
She’d been glad when Managarm sent Rita, David, and Doug off on a mysterious quest he’d whispered to them about at the edge of the camp. She didn’t know where they were going—Managarm wanted her to concentrate on her spell-work instead—but she still had to give the Berserkers the official go-ahead before they took off. She didn’t quite understand that, but anything that meant that Doug was leaving was fine with her. His wrinkled skin hung from his bones like wet paper and he reminded her of what she must look like now, too.
With Peter accompanying Opal on her errands and Baron sequestered inside the tent, Sally was alone with the Moon Dog.
“Progress?”
Sally glanced up to find Managarm looking at her with raised eyebrows.
“Umm, yeah.” She turned the page in her Book of Shadows and tapped on a diagram in her new book. “I think I can get this spell to send a call out to the Yggdrasil. I can’t believe it’s actually real! And maybe that I’ll get to see it. We have to wait a little while, but then I can do this next pattern to show where the Tree is. Kind of like a receiver—”
“And the Berserkers? There are more coming?”
Sally nodded. She understood wanting to find the World Tree. When Managarm wasn’t looking she’d lapsed into daydreams about a magickal altar at the base of the Yggdrasil, going straight to the source to instill the harmonious and reverent values that would spread across the globe. But Sally wasn’t sold on calling up so many Berserkers. The idea of a warrior class being turned into missionaries just didn’t seem workable.
Sally rested her hands on her books. “How many do you need?”
Managarm looked at her and smiled.
Sally lowered her head and fidgeted with the cuffs of her sleeves. She didn’t like the way he’d been looking at her the past few hours—like he was hungry and she was a snack cake. She should feel honored to be in the private company of one of the gods, but she’d really wanted to go on that errand with Opal just to take a break and have some time with her friend in this brief window where no magick was required.
But Managarm made her stay at the camp to work. She couldn’t blame him for wanting to be diligent and precise—she was also a perfectionist when it came to magick. But she was starting to feel like he was punishing her for something she didn’t even know she’d done. And she was growing more weary by the hour.
Sally looked up again. Managarm was still staring at her, with the forgotten novel lying on the dirt beside him.
“So you chased the moon and your brother chased the sun to keep the cycle of day and night going?” Sally looked at the early evening stars in the sky. “I guess the constellations probably looked different then.”
“It was not an ideal situation,” Managarm responded gruffly. “It wasn’t literal, you know.” He reached for the kettle over the fire and poured hot wat
er into the French press. “We weren’t actually out in space chasing the sun and moon.”
“Well, sure.” Waiting for him to continue, Sally scratched her knee and wondered if she was developing psoriasis to go along with her thinning hair and the aching joints she feared were due to arthritis.
But Managarm gestured toward the runes in front of her. Disappointed, Sally looked back at the rune book and started triple-checking her plans for the next spell, which she expected would give the exact location of the World Tree.
Managarm poured himself a mug of steaming coffee. Through a series of furtive peeks, Sally watched him and wondered when the Norse gods would have started drinking coffee. He took a sip and froze, the tin cup just inches from his lips.
“What is it?” Sally asked.
He shot her a menacing look, and Sally instinctively hunched down where she sat. He pointed toward the surrounding trees, and that’s when she heard footsteps. They were soft but steadily approaching the campsite.
She gathered her books and made to crawl toward the tent, but Managarm held up a hand for her to stop, then pressed a finger to his lips. She sank down and hugged her knees to her chest.
Managarm lifted the stick he’d been using to stir the fire and rose to his feet. The footsteps came more quickly, and Sally pulled her shirt collar close around her neck against the uncomfortable thrill of adrenaline and the pounding of her heart. She decided she wasn’t as fond of working with a god as she’d expected.
The surrounding brush shook, and Managarm squared his shoulders. But when a teenager emerged from the trees with his white karate uniform streaked with dirt and his scraped and bleeding bare feet, Managarm lowered his stick and laughed. The wide-eyed boy stopped in his tracks and considered Managarm, then looked past him to Sally. His young face brightened into a smile.
“Another one?” Sally asked.
Managarm stepped out of the boy’s way as he crossed the camp toward Sally. She started to get up to greet him, but he fell to his knees beside her.
“I am Adam.” He bowed his head and whispered. “I have come to serve you.”
“Yeah, okay.” Sally tried to get Adam to look her in the eye. “Just please don’t—”
But Managarm was already standing beside the boy, holding his hunting knife out to him.
“I can’t watch this again!” Sally covered her face with her hands and made her way quickly to the tent. She ducked inside and grabbed Baron, holding the squirming cat close as she buried her face in his fur.
“I’m so sorry, Baron,” Sally whispered into his back, though she wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for.
“Sally!” The sound of Managarm’s voice made her jump. Baron mewled uneasily.
Sally put Baron down and fluffed up the bed she’d made for him inside her backpack. “He’s a god, Barry. I have to do what he says.” She backed out of the tent, watching Baron’s staring eyes as she went. “This will all be over soon. I promise.”
Sally exited the tent to find Managarm standing over the boy. He gestured toward Adam’s clothing, now soaked with blood from the crescent-shaped wound on his chest. “The dojo uniform’s a nice touch. Could use a few more like this one.”
Sally grimaced at the blood and tried to focus on the boy’s face instead. “You said your name is Adam?”
Adam’s face lit up. “And you are the Rune Witch.”
Sally frowned at Managarm. “What’s this Rune Witch business? And can’t you stop them from cutting themselves? Seriously, I can’t stand it.”
“It’s the symbol of the Moon Dog.”
“The symbol of the Rune Witch!” Adam rose to his feet and snarled at Managarm. “The one whose power is a balance of dark and light.”
Adam turned toward Sally. Caught in Adam’s black eyes, Sally took a couple of involuntary steps backward and nearly collided with the tent.
“Your call brought me here.” Adam headed straight for Sally and reached into the interior pocket of his blood-soaked kendo jacket. “I bring you an offering.”
“An offering?” Sally recoiled, afraid of what Adam might produce out of his uniform, but then she looked into his outstretched palm and saw a late model mobile phone. “You brought me a phone?”
“We have no use for another phone,” Managarm grumbled.
“This phone belongs to Odin’s clan.” Adam’s dark eyes glinted.
“O-Odin?” Sally stammered.
“Freyr.” Adam grinned wide.
Managarm edged closer, and Sally definitely didn’t like the smile spreading across his face.
16
“I don’t like this. We should have heard from them by now.” Heimdall paced back and forth in front of the hearth at the Lodge. With Thor and the others on assignment picking up Loki and Fenrir, and Freya in the forest with Laika to guard the Tree, the family meeting was sparse. Odin and Saga sat together on one of the black leather sofas, while the injured Rod reclined on the other with his feet up.
Heimdall stopped and sighed loudly. “And where in blasted Svartálfaheim is Freyr? I haven’t been able to reach him, either.”
“Maybe he got hung up at the dojo.” Saga munched on a french fry. With Frigga gone, the usual rib-sticking dinner spread had been reduced to a fast food bonanza, and the coffee table was littered with boxes and bags from Burgerville, KFC, Qdoba, Burger King, Taco Time, and Panda Express. Saga picked up a fried chicken tender and sniffed at it. “I don’t see why I had to go to work today. Everyone else had important missions.”
Odin reached for his beer stein, one of the few items on the table that hadn’t come from a drive-thru window. “You work in the biggest bookstore in the city. We needed you there, pulling books from the shelves that Managarm might find useful. I doubt the Moon Dog is using computers, and he’s always jumped into things without due consideration. There will be gaps in his plan, and he’ll be looking for help.”
“But Managarm hasn’t been into any Powells location, near as I can tell.” She took a tentative nibble of the chicken, then plunged it into a plastic thimble of barbecue sauce. “And we don’t exactly run a background check on everyone who buys a book. The only people I’ve seen after those kinds of books were this one kooky lady with a rune obsession and a couple of kids after a bunch of titles on Gardnerian Witchcraft. You think they’re working with Managarm?” she asked sarcastically.
“Can’t rule it out just yet.” Odin took a swig from his stein and grimaced. He barely swallowed the beer without spitting it out. “What are you trying to do to me? This cursed light beer is a sacrilegious assault on the senses!”
Saga took a large bite of processed chicken. “We’ve had this conversation before,” she mumbled with her mouth full. “That’s what Frigga wants you to drink.”
“Blast you and your mother and this chemical monstrosity of a beverage!” Odin slammed the stein down on the table, sending suds sloshing over the rim. “The fallen heroes of Valhalla are served better fare than this. I should call the Valkyries themselves to fill my stein from the bottomless kegs in the Hall of the Slain!”
Rod sipped on his Orange Julius. “Is that an option?”
Odin fixed the handyman with a one-eyed stare, then shifted his frowning gaze back to Saga. “If you must torture me this way, at least bring me one of the local microbrews.”
Saga wiped barbecue sauce from her mouth with the back of her hand and reached for another piece of chicken. “That’s from the Spotted Hound. You picked it out yourself last week.”
Odin grumbled under his breath and rested back against the sofa cushions in sullen resignation.
Moving carefully, Rod propped himself up on a pillow. “So when they bring Fenrir back here, do you really think the basement is going to hold him? I made what modifications I could, in my present state. I know some guys I could call in.”
Heimdall stopped to consider Rod’s proposal, then waved him off. “If anything needs to be reinforced, we’ll handle it.”
Heimdall’s pho
ne rang.
“Is it Freyr?” Saga asked. “Frigga?”
“Unknown,” Heimdall read off the display. He lifted the phone to his ear. “Hello?” Relief washed over his face. “It’s Bragi.” He set the phone down on the coffee table.
“Go ahead. You’re on speakerphone.”
“Okay,” Bragi’s exasperated voice crackled through the tiny speaker. “Fenrir’s gone.”
“What?!” Saga spat a tiny piece of french fry across the room as she shrieked. Rod brushed the bit of fried potato off his shirt onto the floor.
“Yeah, we sneaked into the sanctuary just after it closed, but he was already gone.” There was a loud banging noise behind Bragi’s voice, so he increased his own volume to be heard. “Don’t know if he escaped on his own or had help. Either way, we don’t have him.”
Heimdall checked the time. “The sanctuary closed hours ago. Why didn’t you call sooner?”
“None of our phones work!” Bragi exclaimed. “Loki kind of melted them all.”
Rod frowned. “He melted the phones?”
“Yeah, you know. Uncontrolled ambient death ray of chaos,” Bragi replied. “And Loki reports encountering a Berserker in Joseph.”
“Perfect,” Heimdall hissed angrily.
More loud banging came through the speaker.
Odin leaned toward the phone. “Where are you? And what’s all that racket?”
“I’m using an old pay phone at a gas station just outside of Centralia in Washington,” Bragi shouted to be heard over the mechanical tumult. “It took a while to find a public telephone that works.” More loud clanging. “You’re not going to accomplish anything that way,” Bragi called to someone nearby. “Stop breaking everything and just go to the next one.”
“Sorry,” Bragi said more clearly into the phone as the scene quieted around him. “We’re having trouble getting the gas pumps to work.”
Rod winced with the effort of peeling the paper wrapping off of a skinny taco. “They don’t know how to use the pumps? Because nobody pumps their own gas in Oregon?” He bit into the taco and frowned. “You know, some drive-thrus do have salads.”
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