by Judith Post
"For me, it's satisfying—a different kind of hunt to eliminate a different kind of predator."
"But you seem so nice."
"I am nice." Diana smiled. "Maybe an overstatement. Just like the moon, I have my dark side."
"That's why you're restless. You're worried that no one will be there to do your job. The predators will strike again." Freya grew serious. "Your modern world has perils of its own."
"Mortals prey on mortals. People mock magic. But I'll only be here one month. When I get back, I'll make up for lost time."
"But there's something else, isn't there?"
"The dark of the moon is witching hours. If Heid has anything planned, I think she'll strike then."
Freya frowned, confused. "I thought you did ceremonies at full moons."
"White magic, yes. Black magic…."
"…I see." Freya glanced upward. No stars twinkled. Clouds churned across the sky, blotting out light.
"We'd better be ready," Diana said.
Inga came to join them. "Ready for what?"
Noir threaded himself around Diana's ankles. She bent to stroke his sleek fur.
"Diana thinks Heid will attack during the dark of the moon."
"But what can Heid do? The rowans protect the village from black magic. Wolfbane hangs from the logs. Every farm family has talismans." Inga counted things off on her fingers. She looked at Diana. "What else is there?"
"Heid won't come to defeat us. She knows the prophecy. This will be for show, to keep us off-balance."
Inga reached for Noir. The cat sensed her fear, Diana knew, and let her hold him. He must like the girl. He'd scratch anyone else. "Will she send more giants?"
How did Diana answer that? She didn't have a crystal ball, and even if she did, she doubted she'd learn anything. "I think she'll use witchcraft. That's what the dark of the moon is about."
"How do we prepare?" Inga clasped and unclasped her fingers, her confidence gone. She looked around the clearing, making sure each talisman was still nailed to its tree.
"We wait for her and defend ourselves." Diana's answer didn't satisfy, she could tell.
Inga pushed past them to stand outdoors. The grass was wet. The air smelled newly washed. Raindrops dripped from leaves. Noir squirmed in her arms and she released him. "I need a walk. Does anyone else?"
"At night?" Freya shook her head. "Too dangerous."
"Not for you," Inga argued. "You could become a cat or an owl."
"For a stroll? I'd take a lantern."
"We'll stay on the path and won't go far. We'll stop at the tall beech."
"It's wet and soggy. The hem of my gown will get ruined." Freya looked at the beautiful material of her long tunic.
Diana shrugged. Sitting and stewing didn't appeal to her. "I'll keep you company. The night's my friend," she told Inga. Noir padded beside her. "Noir's favorite hours too. He'll help steer us. We'll be back soon," she told Freya.
"Are you nuts? I'm not staying here alone. If you're going, I am too." She went inside to fetch lanterns.
They took the path that led away from the village, and as Diana suspected, the romance of a midnight stroll soon dimmed. One lantern kept sputtering out. The other didn't shed much light. The darkness absorbed it. After Inga tripped for the third time and Freya walked into a limb, the goddess snapped, "Give me the lantern. I'll hold it higher."
Not that height would do much good, but Inga obediently handed it over. They went a few steps more when the hem of Inga's dress caught on a fallen branch.
"By the gods…." Freya set the lantern on the ground and was struggling to free it when a twig cracked close by.
Freya jumped. Footsteps scuffled through the wood ahead of them. A light bobbed between pine branches. Inga looked ready to run.
"Shh." Diana put out a hand to still her friends. They stood, holding their breaths, listening intently. More branches broke. Inga ducked close to the ground. Freya followed her. Diana strained to see who was out there.
Noir looked up at her. His yellow eyes gleamed in the lantern light. A low growl rumbled in his chest.
"Go ahead then, but be careful."
He slipped away, his black fur invisible in the shadows. Diana waited. Noir's yowl shattered the silence. A woman screamed. She raced away from them, branches snapping behind her.
No witch then. A witch wouldn't scare so easily.
Noir returned with a patch of fabric clinging to his left, front claw. Inga reached to take it. In the dim light of the lantern, she frowned. "Looks like a bit from a woman's dress."
"Was it one of Heid's followers?" Freya asked.
"A witch wouldn't run from a familiar. Whoever it was must have seen us. She couldn't miss the lantern. She was trying to slip past us by going off the path."
Inga's gaze swept the woods. "Where would she be off to? There's nothing here but trees."
"A longhouse?" Diana asked.
"The only one in that direction belonged to Snorri. The turf shed's the only thing still standing."
"A lover's tryst?"
"This far from the village?" Inga wasn't buying it.
"Should we try to follow her?" Freya asked.
"We'd lose her in the dark." Diana turned in a slow circle. "Where could she have come from?"
"It has to be the village." Inga sounded doubtful. "Or Einarr's farm?"
A bat whooshed overhead. Freya jumped. "Enough! We're going home."
No one argued. Trying to find the woman was a fruitless endeavor. They started back. On the way, Inga said, "The cliffs are protected, right? If someone tried to climb them, she'd struggle, and we'd know."
"That was no witch!" Freya snapped.
"I doubt Heid would use that route anyway," Diana said. "Heid doesn't have to stay in Giantland. She can mingle with mortals in Midgard."
"Like the young girls in the parking lot." Freya grimaced, remembering the pretty teens.
"Heid can go anywhere any time," Diana said. "All she has to do is make a few changes to blend in." Luckily, her coven would stand out wherever they went. Few mortals had seen half-giants or part gods.
Freya stumbled and put out a hand to catch herself. Diana grabbed it. The three women huddled closer together on the path, slapping pine boughs out of their way.
Diana thought of the longhouses scattered outside the village. "Every farmer is protected, right?"
"With talismans." Freya stepped into the clearing of their marble house and sagged with relief. "Thank Woden. I know a spider slid down my gown." She peeked down her bodice to check and pulled out a brown, pine needle.
"How much salt do you have?" Diana asked.
"Salt?" Freya blinked, unsure where Diana was going. "What does that have to do with spiders?"
"Nothing. Salt wards off witches. If you sprinkle it around a perimeter, a witch can't cross it. Except for me."
"And?" Freya spread her hands, exasperated.
"It would protect the farmers."
"We evaporate sea water to make salt," Inga said. "How much do you need?"
"Enough to sprinkle around the perimeter of each farm."
"You've got to be kidding!" Freya threw her arms in the air. "Do you know how much salt that would take?"
"I can use magic. It would speed up the process."
Freya looked dubious.
"At least we can try." Inga rubbed at her face and shook out her skirt. She obviously had no love of spiders either. "We can start first thing in the morning. We'll get up at dawn."
Diana and Freya glanced at each other. Neither goddess liked to be bothered at sunrise, but Inga was right. If salt could form one more barrier for Heid to cross, why not do it?
"You'll have to wake me," Freya said. "I never rise that early."
"Me neither," Diana admitted.
"I do. I'll rouse you both." Inga sounded ready and willing.
"I'm off to rest then," Freya said. "After our lovely walk, I need my beauty sleep."
They headed to their
beds. Diana thumped her pillow a little more viciously than she needed to. Beauty sleep indeed! If she slept for twenty-four hours straight, she wouldn't be as beguiling as Freya. And she'd never have as much charm.
She closed her eyes and turned on her side. Noir curled against her. She scratched him behind his ears and listened to his purrs. "You did good tonight," she told him. He opened one, yellow eye. He might pretend that her praise meant nothing, but she knew it did. "Are you coming with us tomorrow?" He turned his head. She took that as a no.
Chapter 15
Evaporating water to make salt wasn't as simple as it sounded—even when Diana used magic. It took load after load of water. They'd been at it all day, gathering salt up and sprinkling it around one farm after another. By the time they made their last pile of white crystals, Diana's back hurt. Sweat dripped off her brow. Her skin felt prickly.
She tugged at her jeans, soaked through, to peel them off her flesh. "Maybe we should have called for help."
"I thought about it, but Tyr's working in the blacksmith shop with Olaf today," Freya said. "Something about swords for the warriors. I don't feel safe, having Jorunda come by himself. That leaves Donar."
"Forget that." Diana changed her mind. She'd rather get on all fours and pretend she was a pack mule than call him. "Nothing against Donar, but he always gives me a hard time."
"Welcome to my world," Freya said.
More modern lingo slipped into Freya's speech every day. Diana smiled, but couldn't imagine why Donar would give Freya a hard time. "He pesters you too? I thought I was fair game because I'm Roman."
"No one's as wonderful as Donar—according to him," Freya said. "Maybe he considers Tyr and Woden his equals, but that's about it. He's the biggest and strongest of the gods, and he knows it. He doesn't worry about being modest."
"That makes me feel better. I thought it was only me."
"I should be so lucky. He's harder on you, though." Freya bent to scoop salt into a cloth. She bound it to carry with her. "This is the last farm, thank Woden. Once we do this, we're done."
Inga wiped her forehead. The bodice of her dress stuck to her. The fabric of her skirt clung to her legs. "I didn't realize this would be so hard."
"Neither did I," Freya and Diana chimed in together.
Freya blew a golden curl off her cheek. Even hot and sweaty, she looked gorgeous. Diana could feel herself melt into a salty glob. Strands of hair clumped together. If anyone saw her now, they might mistake her for Medusa. Her stomach rumbled. She licked salty lips. "It's a late supper for us. I'm starving."
"Tyr's invited us to the village to eat," Freya said. "It's his treat for all the work we've done."
"We can't go like this." Inga looked down at herself. "Jorunda will be there."
Freya grimaced at the streaks of dirt on her once glittering gown. "There's a stream in the woods. It's not far from the farmhouse. Once we've salted the property, I'm washing off there."
"Our clothes?" Inga pulled at her soggy dress.
"We'll rinse them in the stream, and I'll summon a wind to blow them dry," Diana said. She felt like the odd girl out, dressed in her summer, tunic top and snug jeans. Perfect for New York. Not so trendy in a Norse meadow. Tyr, she'd noticed, appreciated how the jeans fit her, though. Gowns didn't have the same appeal.
Mollified, Inga pushed the last of the salt onto her cloth and hefted it onto her shoulder. Diana followed suit.
They went to the last farm and circled the entire area—even the pastures. Heid and her coven couldn't get near the family's longhouse, and from this distance, even if the witches worked together, the cat talismans should protect them. By the time the last grain of salt fell, Diana's muscles ached more than they had in years. By morning, she'd be restored—one of the perks of being a goddess, but at the moment, she tried not to walk like a hunchback and snarl at anything that moved.
Freya led them to the stream and immediately stripped out of her clothes. She tossed them in the shallow water near the bank and plunged into the cool waters. To hell with modesty, Diana decided. She smelled like a pig farm and was slicked in sweat. She flung her matching bra and panties on a rock and waded in. Inga fretted until Freya flicked water at her and called, "Do you really want to stink when you see Jorunda?" That was all the motivation the girl needed. Inga untied the ribbons of her dress and let it drop.
They splashed in the water, enjoying themselves. Diana's shoulders eased, her muscles relaxed. The sweat washed away. She walked toward the center of the stream, chest high, and let the stream flow past her. Its waters gurgled over nearby rocks. Tree branches swayed far above her. Then a breeze sprang up, tugging at her hair. It spiked the placid water. It whipped around Diana's head and pushed on her shoulders. The wind whispered warnings. "Get out!" it blew. "Leave the stream. Now!"
Diana snapped to attention. "Inga! Freya! Get to the bank."
Freya ran from the water and threw on her wet tunic. Diana was right behind her. Inga struggled behind.
"Come on!" Diana called. "Something's not right."
The depths of the stream churned. Great Zeus! What was down there?
Inga pushed toward shallow water, but something held her. "I can't." She gasped as a supple, green vine rose from the stream bed and circled her shoulders. It pulled to drag her under. Inga fought to keep her footing. Another vine wrapped itself around her elbow. "Help me!" The vines yanked, and she disappeared under the surface.
Diana and Freya splashed to her. Each took an arm and hauled her up. Inga sucked in air. The vines jerked her under once more. Freya jerked her back up. It became a tug of war. Diana drew her knife. She hacked at the stems.
The vines retreated underwater. They tried to take Inga with them. Freya and Diana tore at them to release her. They grew faster. They twined around Inga's ankles. A green shoot reached for Freya's throat. Diana gripped it and shot it with energy. It withered and died.
"Kill them all!" Freya cried.
"I can't shoot energy into water. It'll go everywhere."
"It has my leg!" Freya went under too.
Diana grabbed her. She pulled, but the vine held Freya tight. Her friend blinked up at her, smiled underwater, then changed into a snapping turtle. Seidr magic. And a good thing. She bit at the vine.
Freya was safe. Diana spun to find Inga. A vine stretched toward her. It wouldn't dare! It touched her and quickly retreated. Where was Inga? Diana saw dark strands of hair fan in the water. The vines pinned Inga's arms to her side. They circled her neck and legs. Inga struggled to free herself, but she'd never make it.
Think! Diana told herself, or Inga will drown.
Inga's lips opened in a cry for help. Bubbles rose to the surface. What could she do? A huntress doesn't panic, Diana reminded herself. And then it came to her. She dove, gouged her fingers in the bottom of the stream bed, and muttered a chant.
The earth rolled beneath her hands. It lunged upward, taking them with it. Once above water, Diana grabbed at vines. She shot energy into them. The pale green shoots withered as the white, hot heat traveled through them.
Freya wriggled free, then returned to her womanly shape. She and Diana ripped dead vines off Inga. Inga turned on her side, coughing and sputtering. Water gushed from her mouth. She groaned and flopped on her stomach.
Freya dropped onto her knees. She shook her head and tried to focus. "I'm still tingling," she said.
"Tingling?" Diana expected Freya's throat to be raw, her lungs to burn…did turtles have lungs? But tingling?
"Your energy. Thank Woden it stayed in the vines, but I could feel it move through them." Freya rubbed her arms. "I wouldn't want the full effect of that." She turned to Inga and slapped her on the back.
More water whooshed from the girl. Inga choked and spewed until she went limp. She took deep breaths.
"Are you going to be all right?" Diana asked.
"I think so." Inga's voice hurt Diana's ears. The girl balled herself into a fetal position. "I want my dress."
Diana fetched it. If clothing helped her feel secure, why not? Diana held out a hand, and when Inga struggled to her feet, a cry made them all turn in unison.
"No!" A woman stepped from behind a nearby tree. She shot energy at Inga.
Diana caught the white, hot ball, strong enough to kill the girl. She held it in her hand, then threw it upward at the tree branches.
"You missed," the young witch mocked.
"Did I?"
A branch snapped and crashed to the ground, pinning the girl beneath it. She tried to push herself up, but Diana's chant glued her where she was. "You stay with Inga," Diana told Freya. "I'll check this out." Diana pulled on her wet clothes and stalked toward her.
The girl was young with honey-gold hair and pouty lips. She spat at Diana. "Do what you want with me! If I die, I'll sit with Hel in her mansion until the time of Ragnarok, and then I'll battle by Heid's side."
Diana shook her head. "Do you people always dream of warfare? You're mortal. I can tell that much. And I'd guess you're a peasant. Your clothing's no better than Inga's."
Inga tightened the laces of her dress a little too forcefully. She glared at Diana.
Diana would have to apologize for that remark later—and get the girl something new to wear. "Do you know this human?" she called to her. "She's anxious to kill you."
Inga scrambled toward them. She stopped abruptly and stared. "Vigdis?" Her voice sounded like sandpaper. She put a hand to her throat and winced when she swallowed.
Freya tugged at the girdle she cinched around her waist. Then she, too, came to join them. She stopped when she saw the girl. "Oh, Vigdis." Sympathy filled her voice.
"Who's Vigdis?" Diana demanded.
"Snorri's daughter," Inga rasped. She bit her bottom lip. "Why? Why would you try to kill me?"
"You work with them now." Vigdis nodded toward the goddesses. "I hate them both. They destroyed my life."
"How?" Inga spread her hands in bewilderment.
Freya looked at Vigdis with understanding. "Your mother asked for a beautiful daughter, and I granted her wish. Your beauty has cursed you, hasn't it?"
"Don't talk of my mother!" Tears misted the girl's eyes and she angrily blinked them away.
