Wolfsbane

by M. H. Bonham

  “Seriously.” Odin nodded. “I had to thaw out Huginn and Muginn on my own shoulders. Geri and Freki and still picking icicles out of their fur.” As if in response, two ravens flew into the hall and landed on Odin’s shoulders. It might have been my imagination, but it looked like they were glaring at me.

  “Sorry about that,” I said more to the ravens than Odin. They snapped their bills together in annoyance and one preened its wing.

  “They’ll survive,” Odin grumbled. “The problem is we can’t track him any further than Midgard, but we think he’s in Colorado, because there’s plenty of places for a wolf to disappear into. He might be in the Rocky Mountains, which would extend the search, but I need someone who is knowledgeable there.”

  I stared at the god. “And you think I and my friends are capable of finding him and bringing him back?”

  Odin shook his head. “I think you’re quite capable of finding him, and that’s all you need to do. We’ll need to lure him out of the state so we can have the Drow create a new binding for him.”

  Ah, so that was how Odin would get around fetching the wolf, himself. He wanted me to be the bait and get Fenrir to the border where he could enlist Dwarves and Dark Elves to capture and constrain him. It didn’t matter to Odin how many of the Drow and Dwarves died as long as they got the job done. Death had little meaning to him, since he dealt with the Einherjar all the time. Any killed would be brought to either Valhalla or Fólkvangr, which he considered acceptable. Never mind the people’s lives he destroyed.

  “I see.” I looked at him. “And what if I don’t find him?”

  “Then, there’s a good chance that Ragnarok could begin. Or worse: some other pantheon might capture or kill him before we can find him.” Odin shook his head, the wide brim of his hat knocking the ravens from their perch. They squawked and flew up into the air.

  “Wouldn’t that save you a lot of trouble if someone else killed him?” Duncan asked.

  “Not exactly,” Loki spoke up. “If another pantheon kills Fenrir, it means my son may go to that pantheon’s world of the dead. It also means that they would have control over the wolf. And that might mean they would have a choice when to begin Ragnarok. He’s not the entire key to starting the Final Battle, but he has enough power to set Ragnarok in motion, especially if he slays any gods before he’s captured. He acquires gods’ powers by devouring them. Depending on whom he ate, he could become greater than anything we know.”

  “So, other gods are going after him?” Elryn asked.

  “It’s likely,” Odin said. “But if you get to him first and get him out of Colorado before the other gods can move in on him.”

  “Can I have a little time to think about this?” I asked, glancing at my team.

  “I will give you until noon tomorrow. By then, I’ll expect your answer.” With that, Odin waved his hand and suddenly we were standing in my room in Eir’s home, Mengloth.

  Elryn, Duncan, Sigrún, Tuzren, Nana, and Li’alla stared back at me. Somehow Odin managed cram all of us into my quarters. Then, all at once they started arguing over each other.

  “This was clearly Tuz’s fault,” Elryn said.

  “Hey, you were the one who wanted to crash Valhalla and get us drunk,” the demon retorted.

  “What the fuck happened?” Li’alla asked.

  “How did we get back here?” Nana said.

  “I vote for cleaning the toilets,” Duncan grumbled.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” the Valkyrie replied.

  The whole thing was giving me a headache on top of the ugly beginnings of a hangover. I sighed and pointed to the door. “Enough!” I shouted over the hubbub. They all fell silent and turned to me. “How many hours do we have?”

  Duncan checked his smartphone—how the hell he got it to work in Asgard was beyond me. “It’s two a.m.”

  “Okay, everyone go to bed. We’ll discuss this at nine tomorrow morning. We’re not going to make any headway while drunk.”

  “But we need to decide…” Elryn began. I shot her a look that said, I am so fucking serious. She shut up.

  I turned to my cousin and grandmother. “I’ll fill you in when we get up, but Odin gave us a quest.”

  “Either that or cleaning Valhalla’s toilets for a thousand years. I opt for that.” Duncan leaned on Sigrún for support.

  “He does not,” Sigrún said. “Come on, big boy, let’s find your bed.”

  Duncan flashed me a shit-eating grin as the Valkyrie led him to his room. I hated him at that moment and seriously hoped he fell unconscious before he had any entertainment.

  Yeah, I’m petty like that.

  Everyone filed out. Elryn was the last to leave. “Look,” she said. “I don’t see we have much choice here. If we don’t find Fenrir before the other gods, we’ll see the apocalypse.”

  “Tomorrow.” I pushed her through the door and shut it. Then, I locked it for good measure.

  I collapsed on the bed, still in my clothes, and fell asleep with the lights on, dreaming about god-eating wolves.

  Chapter Five

  I awoke to pounding both in my head and on my door. I groaned and covered my head with my pillow and prayed to the gods of hangovers to leave me alone. Sunlight filtered in from the bedroom’s window and the lights were still on. I blearily recalled I was still in Mengloth. I stumbled out of bed, still dressed in my clothes from last night, and somehow made it to the door.

  “Rise and shine, sleepyhead.” Elryn grinned at me when I cracked the door open.

  “Fuck off.” I slammed the door and trudged to the large pot of coffee that had somehow magically appeared on the table. I poured it into the mug next to it and sat down at the wooden table.

  Elryn—damn her—invited herself in. She tsked as she walked to the table in what amounted to a kitchen in this place. There was no stove, although there was a microwave, coffee pot, water kettle, and cupboards where you could find anything you needed. The tasteful oaken décor implied minimalist, but the room seemed to sense anything you needed. I suspected it was similar to my tiny house back on Earth. The rooms were probably alive, like my tiny house was. A Time Mage had gifted my parents my home for me before I was born. It was bigger on the inside, but unfortunately its appearance got stuck as one of those tiny houses when my mom tried it out one time. I hear it’s a glitch in the model and even the Time Mage had his own get stuck as a British telephone booth.

  I pointedly ignored Elryn as I took a gulp of the coffee. I recognized it as Hair of the Dog. They served that coffee in Trader Vics when they wanted to sober people up fast. Only it really did nothing for hangovers, as far as I could tell.

  Elryn pulled up a chair with a loud scraping noise on the oak floor and sat down across from me at the table. I groaned and put my head on the table, covering it with my arms. “Come on, Ironspell. It was just a few drinks.” She sounded disgusted. “We have to talk about Fenrir and get back to Earth.”

  “Fuck off, Elryn,” I repeated. “Unless you find some Tylenol for my headache.”

  “Here.” She pushed a glass of water and a packet saying “Extra Strength Tylenol,” with two pills, like those you see being sold at airports and gas stations. “Courtesy of the room.”

  I grasped the Tylenol and ripped open the packet. Downing them and the water, I only felt marginally better, knowing that even though Elryn had no sympathy, the room did.

  Right now, the room was my BFF. What did that say about me?

  “Lightweight,” she muttered. “I thought you cops could hold your liquor.”

  “That wasn’t liquor,” I grumbled. “That was the Devil’s brew.”

  “I’ll let Odin know what you think of his mead.” She smirked at me. “Anyway, we’re got to go find his lost puppy. Ready to head back home?”

  I took another gulp of coffee, letting the dark bitterness consume my soul. “Not really. I didn’t think it was settled. And anyway, it’s going to look odd being hungover just coming out of the mine.” I sighed. “T
hose people who caught the plague—how many died?”

  “Eir saved about half. She modified their memories so they think the Drow killed the people who got shot.”

  I closed my eyes again. There had been kids in the fatalities—I could see them in my mind’s eye. One of the Dark Elf or Drow warlords named Vindar had tested a new form of Elfshot—a modified version of plague—on a tourist group in the Gold Nugget Mine in Idaho Springs, Colorado. Elryn, Tuzren, Duncan, Luna, and I had gone to investigate the call when it had come over Duncan’s radio. Luna and another Idaho Spring’s cop, Sanchez, had stayed behind to monitor our progress when we got shot up with Elfshot, ourselves. Only because Tuzren was a demon and I was part Dark Elf did we survive the disease. Eir had genetically engineered a cure for Elryn and Duncan using my blood to save them. We had gone to Svartalfheim to take out Vindar and the Elfshot.

  Fucking Vindar. The guy was a bastard for killing kids. I was glad the Drow warlord Fane had taken him out. Even if Fane was insanely dangerous.

  “Look,” she said. “I don’t see if we have a choice in the matter. I know you think Odin gave us a choice in this, but he really didn’t. We have to go back to Earth and find the wolf before he starts Ragnarok.”

  I blinked at her. ‘Well that will disappoint Duncan. I’m sure he was looking forward to Valhalla janitorial duty.”

  “I’m sure Sigrún explained it to him.”

  I wasn’t so sure of that. I was pretty sure he was more interested in how her clothing came off. “If you say so.” I took another swig of coffee.

  She whapped me, causing my coffee to jostle and spill. To my surprise, the table sucked the spill right into it. “Hey! Don’t do that. You’ll keep the table up all night.”

  “Get serious here. We have to go after the pooch.”

  My door slammed open and Tuzren flew in, followed by Duncan and Sigrún and my two Dark Elf cousins with two males I had never met. One man was clearly human; the other was Dark Elf. The human had blond hair and gray eyes. His neatly trimmed beard held a reddish cast. He wore a blue tunic and trousers with shoes that had lacings up the calves, and a cloak with elaborate stitching along the edge. The Dark Elf wore a black tunic and trews but no cloak. His long black hair was plaited back and he smiled warmly as he looked at my cousin, Li’alla.

  I wondered if the Elf was Li’alla’s husband.

  Nana turned to me. “This is your ancestor, Lord Isernspell, my husband.”

  I stared at him speechless.

  Isernspell said something that sounded like a cross between English and German. Nana responded and then smiled. “Speak modern English. The boy doesn’t know Anglo-Saxon.”

  Isernspell smiled. “I can see some resemblance even after a thousand years.”

  “You know modern English?” I suddenly felt like an idiot. I only knew a smattering of Old English from Beowulf and a semester of Anglo-Saxon in college. This guy, who was obviously my ancestor, knew how to speak modern English.

  “Well, I’ve had time in Valhalla to learn how to speak with Americans.” He shrugged. “It’s not like we have a lot to do here other than fight, drink, and wench.”

  Nana gave him a sharp look, which suggested the “wenching” part was a sore subject. Even so, I suspected that she didn’t have much room to complain. A millennium was a long time to go without bumping uglies. He shrugged at her look and she shook her head. Li’alla stepped in. “This is my husband, Navarre. Navarre, this is my cousin, Ironspell.”

  “I hear you saved her life.” The Dark Elf shook my hand. “For that, I am grateful. I wouldn’t not have wanted my children to grow up without their mother.”

  I lump formed in my throat. “I’m glad I could. She saved mine more than once.”

  “Good,” Navarre said. “I am glad you are with her. I can’t go back to the other worlds, but while you are gone, I can at least watch the boys.”

  I looked at everyone. “Is it decided, then? We go after Fenrir?”

  “We’re going to have to, if we don’t want Odin’s wrath.” Nana crossed her arms.

  “We haven’t heard from Duncan.” I waved at the unusually silent Idaho Springs cop.

  “Sigrún says we should look for the wolf,” Duncan said, glancing at the Valkyrie, who nodded. “She can be quite persuasive.”

  “I bet she can,” Tuzren quipped. He made a great show in winking at me, as if I couldn’t get it.

  Sigrún glared at him and Duncan tried to bat the little demon away, but Tuzren was too fast and landed on my shoulders. He stuck his tongue out for good measure.

  “Easy, all of you.” I sighed. “I guess this means we need to talk to Odin.”

  At that moment, an old lady tottered into the room. She looked human but had gray hair and bright blue eyes as she looked on me. She was better dressed than the last time I had seen her. She wore a blue kirtle that accentuated her eyes and she had plaited hair. She didn’t look as stooped as she was before. “Well met, Ironspell.” Her voice still held power. She ignored my ancestors and recently acquired family.

  “Who are you?” Isernspell demanded.

  “Well met, Verthandi.” I stepped in front of my friends to show them that I knew her. I knew most would know the name of the legendary Norn who created the future. Her kind went by the name of Fates in the Roman and Greek mythos, and just everyone with a classical background knew how powerful these goddesses were.

  I heard furtive whispers as my friends realized I was talking to a goddess.

  “You did well, kid.” She glanced at my friends for a moment before settling her gaze on me. “I really didn’t think you’d pull off the destruction of the Elfshot, but that just shows your potential.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” I frowned.

  “Such snark. You really are jaded for one so young.” She shook her head. “You don’t realize the powers you have. Not even your ancestors here can match them.”

  I blinked. “Thank you, I think.” I paused and met her gaze. “So, this is more than a congratulatory pat on the back, isn’t it?”

  She nodded. “Odin won’t be available to hear your decision, but I know you’ve already made it to find Fenrir. Not that you had much of a choice.”

  “Well, we could still clean Valhalla’s bathrooms.” Duncan stepped forward, feeling particularly bold.

  “That choice is off the table.” Verthandi shook her head again. “You’ve got to go back and find Fenrir.”

  “Why is that?” Elryn said. “There are Aesir who are looking for the wolf on Earth already, or so Odin said.”

  “They’ve been called back to Asgard. Your husbands will get their orders after we finish talking.”

  “Orders? Why would the gods return here?” I stared at Verthandi, certain I wasn’t going to like what she was going to say.

  She dipped her head in a short nod. No doubt reading my mind. “Ragnarok has begun.”

  Chapter Six

  “What?” Elryn stared at the goddess. “Ragnarok has started?”

  A feeling of dread dropped down into the pit of my stomach. “Ragnarok? How?”

  “Hodr has killed Baldr with a mistletoe.” Verthandi shook her head. “Even if I warn them, the Aesir still think they can outsmart their destinies.”

  “I don’t get it,” Li’alla said. “The story how Hodr accidentally kills Baldr isn’t exactly unknown to anyone. Why didn’t Frigga get the mistletoe to swear to do no harm to him when she got everything else to swear it wouldn’t harm him?”

  Verthandi shrugged. “Avoiding one’s destiny is tricky business, especially for gods. Ragnarok has happened many times—this isn’t the first time it has happened. Each time, the gods learn from their past lives only to relive them anew. As one famous Time Mage is fond of saying, it’s a fixed point in time and can’t be changed.”

  “You know him?” I stared at her. I couldn’t imagine a Time Mage consorting with a Norn, but maybe in this case, he would.

  “Yes, he gave you your tiny ho
use, didn’t he?” Verthandi smiled. “Don’t look so surprised. Time Mages deal with the Norns quite often.”

  I nodded. “So, the same events happen over and over?”

  “There are fixed points in time in the Nine Worlds, or as you would prefer to call them, Nine Universes. They happen regardless of our actions. Now, how they happen may change from iteration to iteration, but nevertheless, they do happen in their own way. Baldr was wrestling Thor this morning and the other gods were playing darts. Loki got Hodr in the game and gave him a mistletoe. You can get the outcome.”

  “Hodr missed and hit Baldr.” I facepalmed.

  “Talk about not hitting the broad side of a barn.” Tuzren flew up to my shoulder and landed. “Geez, you’d think that seeing anything sharp in Hodr’s hand would’ve caused a panic.”

  The Norn glared at the demon. “Does he always talk like this?”

  “Most of the time,” I admitted. “No tact.”

  “Hey, I have plenty of tact.” Tuzren slapped me across the head, aggravating my already nasty hangover headache.

  “Ouch!” I batted him off and he flew up, hovering like an angry demon. Which he was.

  “But I thought that Baldr’s death came before Fenrir getting loose from his bindings,” Sigrún said.

  “That may be the only thing that prevents Ragnarok from starting now,” Verthandi admitted. “But Fimbulvetr has already started on Earth.”

  Duncan gave me a nonplussed look. “Help a guy out here. I learned Norse Mythology from watching Marvel movies.”

  “Before Ragnarok it’s foretold that Midgard will go into a deep freeze that will last three years,” Nana said. “It’s called Fimbulvetr.”

  “Oh hell, that’s just weather in the Rocky Mountains.” Duncan shrugged.

  “So, we have three years before the big throw down to find the wolf?” I asked.

  Verthandi shook her head. “More like a few days—a week, if you’re lucky. The timeline has been damaged with Fenrir loose, and it can only get worse. And there will be other pantheons trying to either start the apocalypse—as you call it—or stop it. Odin is distraught over Baldr’s death right now and isn’t thinking clearly. None of the Aesir and Vanir are. When they do come to their senses, they’ll enter Midgard, and that will bring Ragnarok to Earth.”