Son of Thunder

by Libby Bishop

  Knowing that he shared that kind of pain with her had opened a piece of her to him. And it was, unfortunately, more intimate than their morning tryst had been. Sex without strings was great, but now that a tether of emotion had been created, sleeping with him again wouldn’t be “just sex.” It would bind her closer to him.

  Damn it, Liv. He’s a friggin’ god.

  “Will we be able to find another place to stay, by the border?” he asked.

  “I’ve got some listed,” she murmured. She’d met men whose presence could immediately spark her desire—every time—but Rune was different. Even before their talk in the car, she’d known that once with him probably wouldn’t be enough.

  The fact that he was also the key to tracking down Soosie’s killer meant they would be sticking close to each other until the godkin was caught.

  Fantabulous. I’m fucking screwed.

  No matter how many times she berated herself for that action, it wouldn’t be enough. She knew better than to have a quickie with someone she was hunting with, because the chance of being tied closer during the case was too high to risk. For her to risk.

  “What kind of powers do godkin have, anyway?” she asked, trying to keep her mind from the consequences she’d rained down on herself. “I know they have a bit of their parent’s power, but how strong is it?”

  “The strength of it depends on who their parent is and, more importantly, how many generations down they are from the god in question.”

  “So, if my multi-great-grandmother was the first born to a human and god, my power would be weaker than hers? My lifespan would be less?”

  “Yes, to both. The further down the line a child is from the original godkin, the less power he or she has, and the less the life extension. Though, to the latter, it takes at least four generations for that to start to lessen, and even longer for it to dip below a thousand.”

  Go me! Got one right. “Are their powers tied to that god only?”

  “Not necessarily. Sometimes they can pick up traits from others in their bloodline. There is a chance the child could have the powers of the god they were born to, but they could just as easily inherit a gift from an aunt or uncle of the god.”

  She saw him shrug out of the corner of her eye.

  “It’s really a sixty-forty chance for the human-god child.”

  Made sense, she supposed. Just as with humans, a child could look like a relative or have the personality traits of several. It was a coin-flip as to what the child would inherit from DNA.

  “What gifts could Erik have? Can you give me a hint of what he can do?”

  He sighed. She stole a glance at him and saw his eyebrows furrowed as he thought. What did he need to think about? Erik was of his bloodline—he should know what he was capable of.

  “Rune?”

  “I apologize—I was thinking of my brother.”

  Oh. Now I feel like an ass. “No, I’m sorry. I should have known that your thoughts would go to him since he’s the father.”

  “Reign has always been difficult, though when we were young his lust for violence and vengeance wasn’t so all-consuming,” he said, voice soft. “I miss him when his mind goes dark, Liv. I miss the brother I love when he turns into the monster he is.”

  Her heart ached for him. She’d seen what he was describing a hundred times in her job, and the sorrow and empathy for the families that filled her each time hadn’t diminished. Hearing his longing for his brother, for the times when Reign wasn’t driven by anger and bloodlust, pierced her heart like a dagger.

  “That monster isn’t going to go away, Rune,” she said. “He is what he is—you can’t change it, and you know that. I’m so sorry.”

  His hand moved to rest on her thigh. He smoothed over her jeans, almost caressing, then moved away.

  “I know, and thank you for understanding.”

  She peeked at him again, seeing the hurt wash over his face before an expressionless mask replaced it. Projecting calm was something she’d done often the first year after Soosie’s death.

  “My brother takes after our uncle Modi, so he thrives on anger and justice. He will defend populations devastated by unwarranted attacks or during war vigorously, just as easily as he would murder the innocent if he feels they offended him. I am our father, Magni’s, son. Though I am not as strong as my father, I do have the same strength as Thor”—Magni was stronger than Thor—“and I am meant to help keep humankind from falling apart because of us. You know most of the tales of Odin, Loki, Thor, and Sif, so I won’t repeat those.”

  “What does this mean for Erik?” Worry crept up as Rune spoke.

  “He probably has some of the family strength, though greatly watered down. He’s hidden this long from the human eye, so that means he has the ability to mask himself, build barrier runes to keep his home and killing space hidden as well.” He paused. “Soosie had no defense wounds, and no drugs were in her system, which means he could use the anger to keep victims in a constant state of unbridled fear. They wouldn’t be able to climb out far enough to fight him.”

  The urge to vomit threatened, but she managed to swallow it down her burning throat. To know that innocents were kept like that, that Soosie hadn’t been allowed to fight in any way, made her angry and sick.

  “That’s good to know,” she said, through clenched teeth. Unable to hold her tongue about the god she felt was ultimately responsible for letting Erik’s killing spree go unchecked, she said, “Odin is just as responsible for this as Erik is. Why hasn’t he dealt with this? Why hasn’t he dealt with Reign?”

  A palpable anger rolled off him, then he calmed. Sighing, he ran a hand over his face. “I don’t know, Liv, and that is the truth.”

  She believed him. “If there are indeed more Eriks on Earth, how did they go unnoticed by their Asgardian parent?”

  “That’s a tricky question. Or, I should say, an unpleasant one.”

  Yeah, she figured it would be. “Be that as it may, please answer it anyway. I need to know—both as an FBI agent and as your partner.”

  “Very well,” he said, reluctance heavy in his tone.

  She wanted answers, and she wanted them now, because if she had to hunt more godkin, she needed all the information she could get.

  “Most gods keep track of the children they have with humans, as it’s no good to have the human race raging at us, as we’ve discussed. Some join their god parent in Asgard, some stay on Earth.”

  “Is there no one in Asgard that…I don’t know…” She trailed off, trying to find the right words. “Knows when a godkin is born?”

  If there isn’t, there fucking should be.

  “No, we have no one like that.” He blew out a breath. “Knowing what I do now, with this case, I have a feeling that may change. At least to a small degree.”

  She hoped the hell it would, because if it didn’t…well, she really didn’t feel like thinking about that. Trying to focus on the godkin at hand she asked, “Is Erik harder to kill because he’s the son of a god?”

  “No. Anything that will kill a human will kill him—it’s one of the things that differs between them and a full god. But, you have to get around his powers before you can do such a thing. And humans have no way of counteracting the powers in confinement. Godkin can start riots, some can create illusions. Either way, humans can’t control it.”

  She ground her teeth, pissed off all over again. The fact that gods were so careless in not keeping track of their offspring as they should be really boiled her blood.

  “You are angry and have every right to be.”

  “Ya think?”

  “You have to understand, after one or two millennia, gods tend to forget things we find trivial. That includes when Asgardian men mate with a human woman.”

  “Mating with a human woman is trivial? Maybe to you, pal, but not us.” She blew out a frustrated breath and gripped the steering wheel, her fingernails biting into her palm. “Men,” she muttered. “And I suppose that’s why hum
ans have never captured a godkin who has committed murder, or caused damaging chaos? Because you, or another god, has taken care of them before we can even catch a trail?”

  “Yes. Liv, please understand.” His voice was calm, and he laid a hand over her tight fist on the steering wheel. “The truth is that sometimes a god doesn’t know they’ve created a life until the child comes into its power—only then do they sense it. No matter how light or watered down the power is, they feel it, as does Odin.”

  She inhaled, then blew out, trying to calm her racing heart. “Odin feels each godkin when they come into their power? Never before then?”

  “No. He can’t sense them before that moment.”

  “And we humans are the ones who suffer the consequences of your actions, of your games, your good times on Earth.”

  “Unfortunately, that is true. But please believe me, this is not normal. Erik should have been dealt with before now. Why Odin has not seen to it sends many warning signs that something else is wrong.”

  “What else could be wrong with this situation?” Part of her really didn’t want to know. She wasn’t certain how much anger she could bottle up and swallow without her head exploding in flames.

  “Erik could have someone helping him hide, as well as using his own powers. That Reign is helping his son hide would certainly be worse.”

  Despite the fact that he agreed with her about Odin, she couldn’t help but wonder if he truly felt that way. She understood that having his brother be the one helping Erik hide would be worse in certain ways, but how different was it really from another god doing it? She found she couldn’t read him well at the moment, probably due to her heightened anger. She wondered if he was playing a game with her—had he used his own gifts to manipulate her to aid him at the beginning of their hunt? To keep her from rejecting his offer of help because he needed to get home as soon as possible?

  She didn’t like to distrust the one person who could help her catch a killer, but the thought was there all the same. She suddenly felt his gaze on her, the intensity like embers falling on her skin. She didn’t dare look from the road, didn’t want to.

  “I am not playing with you, Liv,” he said, no room for argument in his tone. “Don’t doubt me now, not when we’re closing in on our prey.”

  She dared meet his gaze briefly then looked back at the road. “I believe that you don’t know why he hasn’t been dealt with. That you don’t know why Odin hasn’t dealt with it. And it’s not distrust in you as a partner right now—I was thinking back on before we left the cabin. I will try to trust you more, Rune. That’s all I can give you.”

  “Then that is what I will take.”

  As if you have a choice in what I give you, Son of Thunder.

  “What happened to you, Liv?”

  She glanced at him, the question making her brow furrow. “What do you mean?”

  “Is it just me, or is it all men you don’t trust?”

  She moved her hand from beneath his and fiddled with the rearview mirror. “I was a mess when Soosie died, running myself ragged. The man I was engaged to told me that loving me wasn’t worth the risk of dying at the hands of someone out for vengeance.” The memory washed over her, and a lump formed in her throat. She swallowed it down, nearly choking on it. “There was no evidence that Soosie’s death had anything to do with my past cases, but the man I’d loved for four years stuck that dagger in my heart all the same. Then he twisted it by leaving before Soosie was even in the ground.”

  They’d been discussing marriage, babies…everything. They’d even had the venue and colors picked out for the ceremony and reception, even baby names. The road to trusting a man so deeply again would be a long one. No man would wait that long, especially a god.

  “I’m so sorry, Liv. He was wrong to leave you, especially at a time like that. But, my beautiful flame,” he took her hand and squeezed it, “I’m not him.”

  “He left a deep scar, Viking. I don’t know if I can trust you completely, and you’re leaving anyway.” Why the hell am I saying this? She sighed. Maybe because he isn’t pushing you for something you can’t give. “That said, I trust you to help me find Erik, mostly because you need to find him as badly as I do. And because of the consequences that would come from losing the bastard, I’m confident that you won’t betray me in that way. Beyond that”—she sighed—“you’re going to have to prove yourself worthy of a deeper connection.”

  He didn’t respond, and she could only guess at what he was thinking.

  “I have no plans to betray you in any way,” he said softly. “I do need you, in and out of bed, but I won’t shatter the tentative trust I have from you. That I can promise.”

  She really wanted to believe that.

  “I’m still wildly attracted to you, though,” he teased.

  She laughed, knowing he was trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere in the car. And she was grateful for that. “Of course you are, Viking.” She met his gaze again. “I’m irresistible.”

  Chapter Seven

  Hearing Liv confess to her past broken heart caught Rune off guard. And from her body language, she hadn’t expected to share that much. But she had, which meant she felt the same emotional connection growing between them. A part of him was pleased with that.

  But he had to be careful, for both of them. He would have to return to Asgard shortly after their hunt ended and retake his place. Short visits would be all that he could give her, and she deserved far better than that. Yet, he couldn’t stop the feelings that were deepening by the second, nor could he deny that when it was time for him to go he would greatly miss the fiery redhead—both her intelligence and the feel of her body. He’d had centuries to learn to live with longing, with the loss of passion and beautiful strength. She didn’t have that, and her sense of loss would be less bearable than his own.

  He needed to get home to his loved ones, his family. But a part of him wanted to stay on Earth.

  For her.

  Just the thought of not seeing her every day, or hearing her laugh, or sharing the little things, had a knife twisting in his heart. It caught him off guard, the realization that—

  The air around him suddenly crackled, and it felt as if he’d been struck by lightning. The suddenness left him winded and made the hair on his arms stand on end.

  How did no one know you were here, Erik?

  “What’s wrong?” Wariness tinged her voice, and she stared at him.

  “Take a right.” He pointed to the upcoming turn. “Here.”

  Flicking on the turn signal, she maneuvered the car without question.

  “A left.” Then, about two miles down the scarcely populated road, the glitter of diamonds was so thick that stretches of air looked like a snowstorm had hit. A rolling pulse hummed along as well, riding the breeze, signaling that they were nearly on top of their prey. “Stop the car.”

  She did so, pulling off the road and parking in a small turnaround.

  “Where is he?”

  “He’s close.” He turned to look at the sliver of lake visible through a veil of trees. “Or, his killing space is. I need to track on foot now, Liv.”

  “Of course.” She immediately got out of the car.

  After he closed his door, she beeped the alarm then rounded the car to stand next to him. “Lead the way.”

  He strode forward, trying to narrow in on the direction the power was pulsating from. After several minutes he locked onto it, and they walked until he found the source—a small cabin by the water. Not as isolated as he’d thought it would be, but the nearest neighbor was a few minutes’ walk away, and the property was surrounded by trees and bushes.

  “What’s that smell?”

  He paused, inhaling, but he didn’t smell anything except fresh air with a hint of wood smoke. He turned to face Liv, who had stopped a few feet behind him, gun in hand and several shades paler than usual. His brow furrowed. “I smell nothing. What is it you scent?”

  “How can you not smell it? T
he scent of sulfur is so strong I could throw up.” Her face paled even more, growing quite ashen.

  “No. But don’t step closer—the fact that you can smell it and I can’t means he’s trying to keep humans away, since he’s not around to protect his cabin.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “And what are you going to do, Viking?”

  Something you will not like, beautiful flame. “I can walk through his barrier because I’m a god. If you do it, it’ll signal him that something’s off, and we may lose his trail for days.”

  Her lips pressed into a white slash, and she slapped her free hand on her hip.

  Hel, he could practically taste how unhappy she was. But he wouldn’t risk the loss of their quarry—neither of them could afford to lose the murderous little shit.

  “Please, Liv.”

  Her silence grew, and he could see the battle that waged within her. She had to be a damn fine agent, used to being in charge.

  “Liv,” he said, unable to stand a second more of her silence. “You must stay where you are. Promise me. We don’t want to tip him off.”

  She straightened her shoulders and finally nodded. “I promise.”

  He took a few steps toward the cabin, preparing himself for what might lay inside.

  “You know he could have cameras up, right?” she said. “He could be watching us now.”

  He hadn’t thought of that, but he realized that it was now even more important for her to stay behind. “If there are cameras, they will be set up within the circle of power that helps keep this property blocked off from the gods. So you really need to stay put, right where you are, Valkyrie. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

  He hoped, anyway.

  He’d already sensed Erik wasn’t at the cabin—there would have been a clear heartbeat, the slightly faster beat of a godkin.

  Reaching the door of the small cabin, he opened it cautiously and peered into a normal-looking rustic, open room. But below him, he could feel the strong pulsing again, alive and well, stronger than the barrier that kept humans out. He found a hatch on the floor under the kitchen table, and as he opened it, the smell of death touched his nose. Not fresh death, but from within the last two months. He knew he shouldn’t go down without Liv, because she would need to see it and secure any evidence that would lead to the other victims.