by J. P. Rice
I slapped on the Long Island/Nanny accent and asked, “So what’s this all about? Why’dya need to bring me?”
Tyr stared into the rearview mirror as he pulled out onto the highway. “Damn, woman. Your memory is shit. I told you I need to make this deal for both of us. Soon, I’ll be Loki’s right-hand man and we will dwell in a palace in Asgard. The denizens will treat you like a queen. And I don’t know why they want you at the deal.”
Time to see what he really thought about me. “Is ‘at red head lady that stayed at our house gonna be there?”
He snapped, “My house. My house. And hell no. Why would you ask that?”
I rubbed the spear with my thumb. “Oh, I dunno. Cuz I been hearin’ things.”
Tyr passed a car from the right lane and weaved back to the left. He spoke over the roaring engine, “Things? What things have you heard?”
How could I put this that wouldn’t raise suspicion? “Just somethin’ about you rescuin’ her or somethin’ like that.”
“You need to quit snooping on my conversations,” he said and put his right hand on my thigh. “What did I tell you about that?” He squeezed, digging his thumb and fingers into my flesh. It was his lucky day that I didn’t stab him in the neck with the broken end of this spear.
The asshole removed his paw and blathered on, “Besides, I was just tricking her to keep her off the trail. And I didn’t rescue her. I traded a fake of half the spear to Octavius and he agreed to let her go. Stupid werewolf. I played them both. She has no idea either.” He turned his ugly mug to me and smiled.
My blood reached a boiling point. I had to remain calm and stay focused on the big picture. I could kill Tyr some other time. “Don’tcha feel bad about all that subversion?”
He sat up and smiled in the rearview mirror, using his thumbnail to pick something out of his teeth. His blatant disregard for the road made me tense. He kept scraping away and spoke in a muffled tone, “Not at all. She’d do the same to me. The rare book business can present some strange opportunities like the one tonight.” Thankfully, he focused back on the road.
I held the spear up in front of my chest. “So why’s this spear broken in half?”
“Stupid Loki did that. I’m still not sure why. You know his motto. Midgard rotates without any help, but it is our responsibility to shake it up,” he uttered in a monotone.
What a stupid motto. “So, whatta ya tradin’ this for anyway?”
He growled, “Damn, woman. You ask too many questions. It’s becoming a bad habit that you need to kick. All you need to know is we are trading this half of the spear for a ticket back to Asgard. Be happy with that.”
“But what about that stupid jerk, Odin?” I asked and caught myself as I was veering into Edith Bunker territory, exaggerating each syllable too much. I had to get back to the Long Island style.
“After tonight, if all goes according to plan, I’ll never have to worry about Odin again. It’ll be glorious.” He kissed the fingertips of his right hand and extended his fingers toward me. Like a chef’s finger kiss.
I planned to do my best to prevent his happiness. It was as if every, single, thing about Tyr was an act. From top to bottom, the guy was a fraud. I couldn’t believe I ever had feelings for this scumbag.
“We have to make a quick stop first so that I can prepare for battle,” he said and checked his teeth again in the mirror.
“Battle. What’dya mean?” I asked as my palms dampened with sweat, and I wondered if he was on to me.
“Not real battle. I just have to look like a God for this deal.” He pulled into a church’s half-filled parking lot with about fifteen other cars. Tyr parked in the center and a group of men approached the car.
I squeezed the spear, wondering what the hell was going on. Tyr jumped out of the Rolls and high-fived a few men. I turned the spear to get it through the door and got out of the car but remained near the passenger door. Another group of men approached carrying various components that I didn’t recognize in the dim light.
The men held up pieces of a suit of black armor and positioned themselves around Tyr. As I got a closer look at his friends, it triggered memories. I knew these men from somewhere. One man wiped his mouth on his shoulder and it hit me.
They were the men on the street the day Tyr had saved the choking victim. Of all the low-down dirty rats, this guy was king of the mischief. I knew his Heimlich technique was shit. He’d staged every meeting we’d had. And I’d thought they were random occurrences. What a fool I’d been!
Tyr held his arms out at his sides and his men went to work, covering his body with dark armor and screwing the pieces together with an electric drill to hold them in place. I would have made an Iron Man reference, but Tyr wasn’t worthy of being mentioned in the same breath.
When his men finished, other than the facial protection that resembled a catcher’s mask, Tyr looked like Darth Vader. How fitting.
The man could barely move as he waddled over. “We’re going to ride with Ezekiel to the deal. It’s only a few minutes from here and we can sit in the flatbed of his pickup.”
Sure, why not? “Whateva ya need is fine with me.”
We jumped into the back of the black Ford-F-250 and drove slowly to the meeting spot. A procession of vehicles followed us, and I shaded my eyes from the headlights of the Cadillac Escalade on our tail.
I turned to Tyr, who was lying down because of his armor. “Ain’t cha afraid the cops might show up?”
He spoke through the mask, “We paid them off. Nothing to worry about. I own this town.”
We pulled into the parking lot at Squaw Valley Park. There were already about a dozen cars in the lot, which was strange because it was after dark. There was a pond to our right and two pavilions with picnic tables to the left. Straight ahead, the park merged into a hillside with paths for nature walks. I couldn’t see it, but I could hear a stream of running water in the distance.
I dug my hand into my sleeve and pressed the raven’s eye, alerting the Morrigan that I’d arrived.
Arawn and his crew were waiting under one of the pavilions and they began to line up in front of the structure. This location would be perfect for my plan. I hadn’t known the exact spot in the park at which they were meeting, but this would do just fine. I went over the plan in my head as four more vehicles pulled into the lot, followed by a strange-looking chariot.
A normal single chariot was being pulled by two winged tigers. Her associates got out of their cars and walked over to the woman driver. Tyr cursed as his friends helped him walk over to the woman. I took a few steps closer and realized it was Loki’s wife, Sigyn. And on closer inspection, the carriage was bigger than a normal one-person chariot.
“What are you doing here?” Tyr asked in disgust.
Sigyn spoke in a sharp tone, “Loki sent us to make sure you don’t screw this up. He’s got a lot riding on it.”
“We all do, okay,” said Tyr as he got flustered. “I need to talk to Loki about this blatant disrespect, but that will come later.” He took a few breaths, settling down. “Let’s go do this.”
Tyr waddled over to the pavilion and the rest of his crew followed. I walked next to him with one half of the spear in my hand.
We approached Arawn and Maeve, who had about twenty people behind them huddled under the pavilion. Two giant orcs stood on either side of the former Celtic Gods. They were wearing loincloths and barefoot, but the bitter winter chill bothered them little. Dressed in a see-through dress, Maeve was either aroused or a bit nippy with her headlights set to high beams.
She stared at Tyr like she wanted to eat him. Hell, she could take him for all I cared now. The silent standoff between Tyr and Arawn dragged on for a few moments. Arawn pulled his arm out from under his wolf skin cloak and produced the other half of the spear.
A light blue spark jumped from my piece to his, and a wave of energy ran up my arm. Holy shit, this baby was the real deal. Game on. Tyr yanked the spear from me and faced Arawn ag
ain.
Tyr finally spoke, “Where’s the briefcase?”
Arawn narrowed his haunting yellow eyes. “Don’t worry. It’s around here. First, we need to see if this links together.”
Tyr pointed to the spear in his hand. “Did you just see that spark? It’s real.”
Arawn huffed, expelling a huge breath cloud from his nose. “You could have put a spell on both pieces for all I know. We put the pieces together, and then, and only then will you get the briefcase. I know you’re doing this for Loki, the God of Mischief. You aren’t taking me for a ride on this one.”
Tyr snapped and spittle flew from his mouth as he argued, “This is unacceptable. I’ve held up my end and brought the spear. You said you would have the briefcase here.”
Arawn spoke calmly, seemingly in control of the situation, “I do have it here. Just not right here. It could be in a car or in that pond or in those woods up there. You will see it. And only see it. When the spear becomes one.”
Tyr spun around awkwardly, trying to calm down. He pointed in Arawn’s face. “I swear on my name that if you attempt anything funny, I shall kill you on the spot.”
Arawn bit a piece of skin near his thumbnail, turned his head to the side and spit the tiny fragment out. “Bit dramatic don’tcha think? Enough of the pissing contest. Hold out your half. If they join, you can hold on to the entire spear until the briefcase arrives. Actually, I’d prefer if your lady friend held it. I have no reason not to trust her.”
This was playing right into my hands beautifully. The two men awkwardly lined up the broken ends of the spear. Tyr’s armor seemed to make all movement difficult. After a few close swipes, the two ends met, and a lightning bolt shot down from the sky, hitting the spear. Both men dropped the smoking object and took a step back.
When the smoke cleared, the moon and stars shone down on an eight-foot spear lying in the snow in all its magnificence. All the damage it had incurred over the centuries had been erased. It looked as new as the day it had been crafted by Goibniu.
Both men scrambled for the spear, leaning over to grab it. Moe and Curly smacked their heads together, and both men nearly fell to the ground. Tyr swiped it up and staggered backward, straightening his helmet. Both groups began laughing until their respective leaders’ stern looks silenced them.
Tyr and Arawn turned to each other, and the latter said, “Give it to her to hold and I’ll send my man to get the briefcase.”
“What’s your game here? Why do you want her to hold the spear?” Tyr walked over and extended the spear. He whistled twice. I reached out to grab it.
In an instant, I felt the sharpened edge of a cold piece of steel pressed against my neck. Apparently, Tyr had set up a signal to one of his men.
Tyr screamed, “Is she working for you? Did you put her up to something? Why do you want her to hold the spear so badly?”
Arawn remained calm. His crew emerged from the pavilion and flanked his sides. “Because I don’t trust you. You’re a dirty trickster, just like your best friend Loki. I’ve never even met this woman before, giving me no reason to mistrust her.”
He was slightly wrong about that. We had met before.
“Something is going on here,” Tyr said and mused, “No briefcase. You want my girlfriend to hold the spear. Do you want her to die?”
Arawn started to get frustrated and spoke faster, “I’m not sure what is going on here. If you want to hold the spear, then for fuck’s sake, do it. I don’t know you very well, but you seem as though you’re losing your mind.”
“Thanks for the advice, doc. No, see, now that’s exactly what you want me to do. No, I’ll let her hold it so that I can kill anyone who makes a move for the spear.” His associate removed the blade from my neck and I sighed in relief.
Tyr stepped forward and handed me the spear. Arawn snapped his fingers and one of his lackeys ran up from the group on his right.
The man stood in front of Arawn, who said, “The briefcase. Go get it now.” The assistant darted over to the parking lot.
Now was my chance. Holding the spear in one hand, I reached inside my sleeve and pried open my skin. With everyone distracted, I covered the raven’s eye with my thumb and waited a few seconds. Sliding my digit to the left, I saw dead red. The second signal was sent.
Nonchalantly, I reached into my pocket and hit the sensor Owen had given me. Then I placed the tiny object that looked and smelled like a breath mint in my mouth. The perfect decoy. My eyes darted around, making sure nobody suspected anything.
Peering up to the hillside, I watched the dull yellow lights in the form of eyes flash on. The robotic feline firing squad was ready. Now it was time to shift. Slowly. I called on my dragon blood and felt the thick liquid circulating to my extremities.
I heard a car door slam and knew I had to kick the plan into high gear before Arawn’s lackey returned with the case.
With everything in place, I cast an invisible umbrella shield to hover above my head and follow me. Fierce squawking sounded from above and everyone looked up naturally. A murder of crows passed by the moon, their silhouettes streaking across the bright object in the sky. With everyone’s heads inclined at the commotion in the sky, I went into full shifting mode.
I felt the scales run up my arm, from wrist to shoulder. My body swelled, the seams of my coat and dress bursting as I grew.
“What the hell is that?” screamed one of Tyr’s associates. He held out his hand as objects fell from the sky.
Little red globules rained down, courtesy of the Morrigan’s crows. It was a different kind of ginger storm. The men and women scattered, running toward the pavilions for cover. My invisible umbrella kept me safe. I tucked the spear under my arm and ran toward the hillside.
As I moved, two horns sprouted from my head, my jaw elongated and sharp fangs developed in my mouth. I felt the rush of reptilian skin wash over my face and travel down my neck. My body scales appeared in waves, like rows of shingling. The fire inside my chest intensified, threatening to cook me alive.
After one hell of a hibernation, the scarlet dragon had awakened.
I increased my speed as Tyr yelled, “What are you doing, you stupid bitch?”
I peeked over my shoulder as my footsteps became heavy thuds due to my increased mass and enormous feet. I saw Tyr unaffected by the crows’ downpour, safely inside his armor. He walked fast, chasing after me, but stopped after only about twenty feet. As the only dragon shifter in existence, Tyr knew it was me.
My short arms reached for my mouth to grab the sensor but came up short. Oh shit. I pushed the sensor into the front of my mouth against my front teeth and slowed almost to a stop. Extending my long tongue with the sensor on it, I reached up with my dragon hand and grabbed it.
My huge hand with three clawed fingers had trouble pressing the tiny button, so I transferred it to my other hand holding the spear. I held the sensor and spear steady with one hand and used the tip of a claw my other one to activate it. Once I heard the soft beep, I discarded the object and it fluttered to the snow below.
I started moving again, quickly speeding up to a jog. The crow’s storm had come to a stop. I took a quick peek back and saw Arawn and his crew coming out from under one pavilion, and Tyr’s crew emerging from the other.
Two fireballs raced past me and crashed into the hillside. I didn’t panic as I had another distraction ready to go. “Come on out, gophers,” I whispered under my breath.
A paralyzing pressure on my back meant that my wings were developing. Within a few breaths, they had hatched fully, extending out from my body. I beat my wings, which slowed me down from the resistance. Another fireball barely missed me, hit the ground and burrowed into the soil. A few steps later, the swooshing sound filled my ears and my feet lifted off the ground with my long tail trailing behind.
As I climbed higher, Owen sprang into action. Bullets erupted with a uniform blast, sailing under me and across the park at the two groups. Beings dove in every direction with so
me individuals covering their heads and running for the pavilions as a hail of bullets peppered the park.
Because of his ridiculous armor, Tyr was the only one who didn’t flee. Sparks flew from his black suit and the constant barrage caused him to stumble backward. It would be a great shame if one of the bullets sneaked through that mask and hit him in his pretty face.
I blew a kiss to the A-Cat 47s on the hillside, their yellow eyes lighting up the woodsy darkness, and said a silent thank you to Owen.
With my plan in full effect, I could ride off into the sunset or moonset in this case. Nothing could stop me now. Suddenly, a tiger’s growl sent a chill down my spine and shattered my confidence. I kept flying forward as I turned and saw two winged tigers carrying a chariot and speeding at me. Son of a bitch. How had she escaped the gunfire?
I dipped to the right and tucked my left wing, gliding under the moonlight. I shifted my vision, optimizing it for a dark setting so that I could detect them from far away. My p.m. specs were now in place so I peered over my shoulder, which was no problem with my long neck.
I turned and tried to fly backward to analyze their flight pattern, but I dropped like a rock. As I moved left and right, I realized I’d lost some of my flying ability. Titania had taken back her enhanced senses as well as her amazing flying ability. I still had enough aerial skills to succeed so I climbed in the air and focused on the chariot.
The winged tigers had some serious speed coupled with deft moves. The dangerous beasts closed in on me rapidly. I beat my wings for all I was worth, precious oxygen leaving my dry mouth. I thought I would pass out. Then I tucked my wings and dove at a steep angle for two seconds. Next, I straightened my body and extended my wings, which slowed me down. The chariot streaked by.
I knew that evasive move would only buy me a few seconds, so I formulated a plan. The fire raged inside me, speaking to my soul and begging to come out and play. An idea hit me as I turned around and noticed the tigers closing in on me. With my attention focused squarely on them, I caught a flash out of my peripheral.
