by M. H. Bonham
Duncan laughed. “You don’t say? You come off of giving the Drow a bloody nose only to stop a plague—and none of the Normals know what you did.”
I shrugged and drank my tea. “The people who matter know. That’s what counts.”
“And you’re not riled up even a little that DWTF got credit for saving the day taking out the sorcerer?”
I grinned wryly. “Maybe a little.”
The cops chuckled.
“So, what’s our plan for finding Fenrir?” Sigrún asked.
“I was thinking of leaving a bunch of dog biscuit ou…oww!” I rubbed my shoulder where Luna smacked me with her claws. Everyone laughed. “Seriously, I think we need to meet at my place and work out a strategy.”
“Probably a good idea.” Elryn met my gaze and it told me everything I needed to know. She too suspected that talking about capturing Fenrir here might not be the wisest idea.
We were just finishing up dinner when Tom showed up at the table. “Ironspell, Alaric would like to speak to you…alone.” He glanced at Luna, who was about to object, but his look silenced her and made her look away.
I gave her a kiss on the muzzle. Don’t worry, I thought to her, using pack-speak despite my headache. I’ll let you know what’s happening.
She looked up and gave me a wan smile, nodding once, imperceptibly. Okay, so I wasn’t a werewolf, but by the gods, she and I were linked enough to be able to use the werewolf mindspeak. And I sure as shit wasn’t going to let Alaric keep anything from her.
I followed the big were toward the back of the bar where Alaric had his offices. Alaric was no longer seated at the table he was in, so I assumed he was waiting for me in more private area. His brother, Ragnar, was still at the table talking with a few of the other weres there.
I walked back to the stairwell that led to the Alpha’s office. I smiled as I took each step. The stairs creaked with each footfall, similar to the nightingale boards that the samurai often installed in their castles. Nightingale boards would chirp like a bird—hence the name—when someone stepped on them. This alerted the occupants that someone was approaching and foiled many Ninja. I had to hand it to Alaric on his resourcefulness and knowledge of history.
When I got to the top, I found that a small corridor connected the stairs to a door, which presently was open. Looking inside, I was astonished by the overall space the room took up. The room was huge, relatively speaking, and was almost as big as the entire bar and restaurant below. What did not surprise me was Alaric’s taste in furniture. The rich oaken furniture upholstered in dark leather had a style that looked more at home in an ancient European manor than in a bar in downtown Denver. The anachronistic touches included a widescreen monitor and a desktop computer sitting on the immense desk near the back of the room. Different artwork in both modern and the Native American styles depicting wolves hung on the walls. There were several leather high-backed chairs in front of the desk. Bookshelves lined the back wall behind the desk. Alaric sat at the desk and was working on what I would guess would be accounting or paperwork. Whatever paperwork an Alpha werewolf would have with a fairly large pack.
He did not look up from the papers, so I took the time to peruse the office a bit more. There were three more desks; one of the desks looked more modern, even though it was made of oak, and held at least three computers in various stages of assembly or disassembly. Another computer was on and cycling through a screen saver of wolf images.
The gutted computers looked like some cybercriminal had killed them and disemboweled them, leaving the cyber organs trailing out in a macabre display. An unplugged soldering iron and a static mat completed the scene with bits of boards and chips scattered haphazardly. I idly wondered if this was Spaz’s workstation or maybe even Kira’s. Word on the street had it Spaz and she were the best of buds, and she was a hacker extraordinaire. The story went that she was made, not born, a werewolf and had gotten bit by a rival engineer who happened to be a were. This happened shortly before the Supernatural community revealed themselves, far too many years ago. Now a werewolf, she had the increased lifespan and regenerative abilities.
“Good with computers?” Alaric’s voice brought me out of my musings.
I shrugged. “Some. I wanted to be a technomage, but life had other plans.”
Alaric cocked his head. “Really? Why is that?”
“Oh, the Drow, the curse, and my mom, for one.” My voice held a surprisingly bitter tinge.
“Ah yes, Evrardin’s death curse. Keeping the Drow out of Colorado was useful, given how they despise the Normal so. I’m surprised to see you with two of them.”
“You mean my Dark Elf relatives?”
“Ah, that explains it.” Alaric nodded. “Your father knew he had Dark Elf blood, but he couldn’t risk having another invasion and have you taken out.”
“You knew my father.” It was more of a statement than a question.
The Alpha nodded. “Evrardin was well known in the Supernatural community. Your mother kept a very low profile, which is why when I heard you were Ironspell’s son, it surprised me.”
“I didn’t know you knew my dad. Come to think about it, just about everyone has met my dad but me.”
“I’m sorry you didn’t meet him. I can see a lot of him in you, which is why I never questioned your lineage. Plus even though you lack much formal training, you have as much, if not more, magic than he had.” Alaric waved to one of the wingbacks. “Please, sit down.”
I walked over to a chocolate brown chair and sat. To my surprise, it was comfortable. The well-worn hide and the soothing leather smell combined with the soft padding relaxed me almost immediately. Had I really been that on edge? “What is this all about?”
“Fenrir.”
I blinked. I didn’t expect the Alpha to come out and say something so candidly. “Do you have him?”
“No, and if I did, what concern is it of yours?” Alaric sat behind the desk and clasped his hands in front. He idly chewed on a hangnail as he stared at me with his wolf eyes.
There’s something disconcerting about staring down an Alpha were. The golden eyes met mine without blinking and I could feel the power behind them. Werewolves have their own special brand of magic that enables them to dominate others, talk to each other in a pack, and control their shifting. I could feel Alaric’s dominance weigh down on me as I looked into his eyes.
At this point, I knew I should look away. After all, I was in the Alpha wolf’s den and to argue over dominance was petty. Of course, this was his place. But at the same time, I despised having anyone suggest that I should submit to their will. So, I stared back, waiting for him to end this standoff.
We would’ve been staring at each other until doomsday, had there not been a knock on the door. We both broke at the same time and looked at the door. “Who is it?” Alaric spoke, sounding somewhat annoyed.
“It’s Ragnar.”
“Come in, brother.” The door opened and Ragnar strode in. He shut the door and walked in like the predator he was, muscles rippling under his clothing with each stride. “I was just talking to Ironspell about Fenrir.” I caught the subtle inflection in Alaric’s voice.
Ragnar walked over and pulled up a chair. “Who sent you to find the wolf?”
“Eir and Verthandi.” I couldn’t see a reason to lie to them. “The wolf escaped while there was a fight in Valhalla.”
“Is that what they told you?” Ragnar asked.
“Yeah, that’s what Odin said.”
Both Alpha werewolves met each other’s gazes. I could feel a brief exchange of pack-speak, even if I couldn’t hear it. Alaric shook his head. “Odin is a damn liar. Fenrir has been gone for quite some time.”
Chapter Twelve
“What? Fenrir has been missing for a while? Why would Odin lie about that?” Flummoxed, I looked from Alaric to Ragnar and back to Alaric again.
“You know the story of Fenrir’s imprisonment, don’t you?” Ragnar asked.
“Yeah, su
re. That’s how Tyr lost his hand.”
Alaric nodded. “What you may not know is that shortly after Fenrir was imprisoned, someone released him. He fled Asgard and traveled the Nine Worlds looking for a place that would hide him. Eventually someone would catch him and bring him back to Asgard to be chained up again. Sometimes he’d escape for years and we’d go through some of the worst weather imaginable. Ice ages that would last for hundreds, if not thousands, of years.
“Each time Fenrir escaped, he would cause Earth to go into a period of the deepest winters. Because of the prophecy of Fimbulvetr.” Ragnar leaned back in his chair. “That is what caused the last ice age and even the mini ice age.”
“But the ice ages on Earth lasted thousands of years. Fimbulvetr is supposed to last only three years.” I looked from one wolf to the other, wondering how they knew this.
“Three years by what worlds’ calculations?” Alaric said. “Asgard’s? Niflheim’s? Midgard’s? Some other Universe or planes of existence? Not even Odin can be sure.”
“But Baldr is dead. He died last night.” I rubbed my eyes, realizing I was more tired than I thought.
Silence ensued. “Hodr killed him?” Ragnar asked.
I nodded. “Verthandi thinks it had something to do with Fenrir’s escape.”
Alaric shook his head. “That old crone is always trying to meddle with our fate. Yes, she and her sisters weave the Web of Wyrd, but they don’t have quite the power to change our lives. Otherwise they’d stop this mad cycle of rebirth and Ragnarok.”
Ragnar shook his head. “Brother, I think you’re wrong. I think Fenrir has been gone too long from Asgard. Why else would Hodr kill Baldr?”
“It was obviously Loki’s doing.” Alaric stood up and began pacing.
“Most definitely, but we also know that even the gods are bound to the laws of the Universe.” Ragnar turned to me and shook his head. “Fenrir does not start Ragnarok with his escape, but once he does, we both know that the timeline must reset itself. Baldr’s death is the first sign of Ragnarok, whether or not Fenrir frees himself.”
I watched Alaric pace for a few moments. “Why did you want to see me? Surely not to give me a lesson in Norse mythos.”
“I want you to understand what you’re up against.” Alaric stopped pacing and turned to me. “I don’t know why the gods sent you after this fool’s errand, but you’d have less luck finding the Bringer of Ragnarok than picking a fight in a vampire’s nest.”
“I picked a fight with vampires before. It didn’t go so well for the bloodsuckers,” I replied. Both Alphas stared at me. “Look, it’s either find the wolf or have Ragnarok start. Never mind that Odin will probably make me Valhalla’s head janitor if I don’t find Fenrir; I’d prefer to not have to deal with the apocalypse. And if what the angel said is true, we’re going into Fimbulvetr, like it or not.”
“Just like Evrardin,” Ragnar remarked.
“You knew my dad?…never mind.” I shook my head. “Look, I appreciate the concern. I really do. But if there’s a way to find Fenrir, I will. Unless you both have a way to help me find the wolf, I think I’m done here.” I stood up.
Alaric shook his head. “Don’t go after Fenrir, Ironspell. There are too many players who are searching for them—and most of those are gods. If you insist on risking your life looking for the Wolf of Ragnarok, I would ask that you keep all my pack members out of it.”
“Even Luna?”
“Especially Luna.” Alaric’s voice rumbled in a growl. “I appreciate your eagerness, but you will get yourselves killed. And assuming you find Fenrir, how are you going to convince him to go with you? I don’t think he’ll take too kindly being chained again.”
“Well, first I have to find him. I’ll worry about bringing him back to Asgard later.” I shrugged. “Thank you for the warning and the information. It has been most enlightening.”
With that, I walked out of Alaric’s office. As I shut the door, I thought I heard Ragnar say to Alaric. “I told you he wouldn’t budge.”
~ * ~
“So, what did Alaric say?” Luna asked as I drove toward Bonnie Brae where I had parked the Tiny House. Elryn followed us in the Dodge RAM and Duncan and Salazar followed in one of the Idaho Springs cop cars. I notice that Sigrún rode next to Duncan and Salazar took the back seat.
“He told me to stay out, and to keep you out of it,” I replied.
“What?” She stared at me, fuming. “He didn’t bother to tell me himself?”
“I get the feeling that Alaric is an old fashion werewolf. Just how old he is, I don’t know.” I glanced at her. “Do you know how old Alaric is?”
Luna shook her head. “No one in the pack really knows how ancient he is. But there have been rumors.”
“How long do werewolves live, anyhow? And do they divide that by dog years or something?” Tuzren asked. The little demon had the back seat in the Jeep to himself, so he had sprawled out and napped. Or so I thought.
I rolled my eyes.
“Werewolves live a long time because of our regenerative abilities,” Luna said. “The older wolves don’t tell us their ages, but there are lots of rumors. Tom purportedly has let slip some clues that suggest he’s over a thousand years old.”
“Wow, he hardly looks a day over forty.” The demon glanced at her. “How old are you?”
“Tuz!” I snapped.
“Hey, it’s nice to know if she’s a cougar…, uh…” Tuzren stammered, trying to think of the canine equivalent.
Luna shook as her laughter came out in yips and she wiped tears from her face. “Cougar! Uff, uff, uff.” When she finally got her laughter under control, she grinned. “Jimmy and I were whelped two hundred and eighty moons ago. I am about 23 years old.”
“Oh, okay. Sorry.” Tuzren shrugged.
“It’s okay, Tuz. I’m not that sensitive about my age. Only when you get really old and powerful do you start hiding the number of years.”
“Why is that, I wonder?” I mused.
“Like fangbangers, weres get more powerful the longer they live. The older, dominant weres don’t advertise their power much because there are other creatures that would try to take down a powerful were. So, Alaric and the older wolves hide their ages so they don’t have to deal with the hassle.”
“Makes sense.” I nodded.
“But even if Alaric is my Alpha, I’m not going to let him order me around,” Luna said. “He’s being too overprotective.”
“I thought you were a Beta female,” I said, grinning.
She whapped me with her claws that were sure to leave a bruise. “I’ll be whatever I damn well want to be.”
I raised an eyebrow, but chuckled nonetheless. When I had met Luna about a month ago, she had been a somewhat docile Beta female, who was worried that I wouldn’t like her because she didn’t have control over her shifting. But apparently, I was a bad influence and she had grown more Alpha since she met me. That was fine by me. I wasn’t interested in a relationship with a person who agreed with me about everything. “That, I don’t doubt.”
Luna gave me a big toothy grin, which would’ve looked like a snarl to someone who didn’t know her. “Just remember that, magic man.”
~ * ~
We turned off I-25 onto University Boulevard. From there, we headed north into the residential section of Bonnie Brae and turned onto East Kentucky Avenue. I had chosen to park my Tiny House in the parking lot of Bonnie Brae Park. Despite being in the city, Bonnie Brae gave the quaint feeling of a suburb within Denver, which is why I felt relatively safe leaving the Tiny House there.
Only, it wasn’t.
I don’t remember the exact string of words I used, but I think “motherfucker” and “sons of bitches” figured prominently in them. I parked the Jeep and got out where my Tiny House should have been. Elryn parked beside me, and Duncan parked beside her.
“Where’s your Tiny House?” Elryn asked as she got out. The others looked at me quizzically as they filtered out of thei
r rides.
“Some fucker stole my Tiny House. Again.” I waved my hands like a madman.
“I think you need a better watch chicken,” Tuzren offered. “She needs to be able to defend the outside too.”
“I think you need to put it in a safer neighborhood,” Duncan said. “Somewhere away from Denver.”
I sighed, totally exasperated. “This is near the substation, so I wouldn’t be late to work.”
“Wake up earlier and live in a safer neighborhood,” Salazar suggested.
“You have the tracker. Why don’t you use that?” Tuzren said.
“Yeah, the tracker.” I had sort of forgotten I had gotten one from Sabine. I went back to the Jeep and pulled the tracking talisman out of my zippered coat pocket. I handed it to Luna and we drove off to find my Tiny House.
~ * ~
“Seriously?” I looked up at the Williams Carillon Tower in disbelief. Despite it being close to midnight, I could just see the Tiny House sitting on top of the Richie Center near the tower in the building’s floodlights. “How the fuck could anyone have gotten it up there?”
“Been to Hogwarts lately?” Duncan joined us. “Isn’t it Wingardium Leviosa, or something to that effect?”
I nodded sheepishly. “Yeah, I think so. Unfortunately that doesn’t work, and I don’t know how to levitate stuff back down.”
“Why don’t you try?” Nana asked.
I looked at my great-grandmother and frowned. “You mean like make it up on the fly?”
She nodded. “I could get it down for you, but I think you’ll be better served if you do it yourself.”
I thought about it for a moment. “Levitate…et retro?”
“Without words.” Nana crossed her arms. “Focus on the object, not the wording. You could say McDonald’s Big Mac and that would work as well.” She smiled gently. “You’ve done this before—you should be able to do this easily.”
“Don’t start telling me that size doesn’t matter, Yoda. That’s a ridiculously heavy house.”
“Who’s Yoda?” Li’alla asked.
“We’ll have a Star Wars marathon.” Tuzren patted her arm.
