“Do not fail me.” Order given, Odin vanished as quickly as he’d arrived.
Bjorn sighed and ran a hand over his face. “I’m supposed to believe this is just a fucking coincidence?” This stank of another plot against the Brotherhood, but damned if he couldn’t figure out how, since Lucifer had been behind their recent problems.
And wasn’t it a happy accident that three members of the Brotherhood were meeting in person tonight for the first time in months? He jammed the rest of his belongings into his duffel bag, tossed the key card on the table, and left the motel room without a backward glance.
“And thanks for the starting point, Odin,” he muttered. After locking his bag in his truck, he took a deep breath, but it did nothing to soothe the adrenaline coursing through his veins. Needing to work off some of the excess tension, he set out on foot.
Everyone had an energy signal, one he could sense and scent. It was easy to tell the humans from the paranormal creatures that roamed the earth. This woman would reek of the afterlife. Or she should. He was working blind. It would take patience and cunning, but wherever this woman was, he would find her. Then he would end her. Or, at the very least, return her to Odin so it could be done.
To disregard the order or to defy it would mean his death.
Those whose lives had ended needed to remain in the realm of the dead. His beloved wife Anja and their three children were there, safe from the world of men who had carelessly slaughtered them. He would not allow anyone or anything to disrupt that peace.
He reached up and touched his chest where runes were inked above his heart. Their names were a memorial, a constant reminder of all he’d loved and lost.
The woman had defied the gods. She would die.
Pledge given, he prowled down the sidewalk, mulling over the problem facing him, peering at it from every possible angle. The moon was all but obscured by the clouds and city lights, but it was up there, hanging high in the night sky. Inside him, his wolf howled. He stifled the urge to throw back his head and release it. He’d been confined to the city too long.
Instead of leaving after the upcoming meeting and heading upstate to his rural getaway in the Adirondacks, he had to figure out how the hell he was going to accomplish what Odin had commanded.
The Brotherhood might have some ideas.
Tension gripped every muscle in his shoulders and back, and he released a low growl that made a fellow pedestrian jump out of his way. Even after all these years, he fucking hated asking for help. Harder still for him to accept he would get it.
Asher—father of vampires and a damn good hacker—could dig through the internet and find any reports of strange women appearing from out of nowhere. Or some other anomaly somewhere in the world. It was a long shot, but it was a place to start.
How had the woman escaped from Freya’s Hall? One didn’t simply catch a bus or plane. The only way in or out was with some considerable help.
The Valkyrie took their jobs seriously and wouldn’t do anything to upset the balance. Nor would they dare defy Freya. That left the other Norse gods and goddesses. They often stole one another’s shit and got into minor skirmishes, mostly to entertain themselves. Allowing, even helping, someone to leave the afterlife? That was unprecedented.
There were some rules even the gods were hesitant to break. But someone had stepped over the line, willing to tinker with the very fabric of existence.
Because if one person could leave, they all could. And the world was meant for only the living, not those who had passed over.
People still jammed the sidewalks, even though it was after one in the morning. Taxis and cars vied with city vehicles for road space. A black cat with a notch out of one ear ran across his path, pausing to hiss at him before continuing on.
He resisted the urge to growl at the arrogant feline. Instead, he pulled out his phone and pressed the first contact number. Maccus wasn’t likely to answer, but he could leave a message and give them a heads-up. Their fearless leader hated small talk or contact of almost any kind. Although he’d mellowed some since he’d met his woman.
Surprisingly, the phone was answered on the third ring. “What?”
“Odin showed up tonight. He had a task for me.”
Maccus cursed in several different languages, managing to be quite inventive. “Dare I ask what the god wanted?”
Bjorn stopped long enough to put twenty bucks in the cup of a homeless person, got a nod in return, and kept going. The tattoos on the man’s arms marked him as military. It pained him to see so many soldiers who’d fought for their country out here on the streets.
“A woman somehow crossed back over to this side.”
“From Valhalla?”
“He says from Freya’s Hall.”
Maccus released a low whistle. “How is that possible?”
“It’s not. Or it shouldn’t be. At least not without some special sanction from the goddess.” It went without saying the woman didn’t have any special dispensation or he wouldn’t have been ordered to hunt and kill her. He turned down a side street that was marginally quieter, his long legs eating up the distance to his destination.
“I don’t like this.”
“No shit.” The itch between his shoulders intensified. He glanced around, scanning his surroundings, looking for anything out of place. His wolf went quiet inside him, hackles rising. “Timing sucks.”
Raised male voices caught Bjorn’s attention, almost drowning out that of a woman. “I gotta go. I’m about fifteen, maybe twenty minutes away. We’ll talk when I get there.”
He ended the conversation and shoved his phone in his back pocket. This time of night, a woman’s shout of distress would likely go unanswered. Even if someone called the cops, they’d probably be too late to stop whatever was about to happen.
His fingers curled into fists, the bones cracking under the force of his anger, even as he turned in the direction of the commotion. No way could he walk away from a woman in need. He had contempt for men who preyed on women. It had never been his way, not even among his own brethren, many of whom thought nothing of owning slaves. He’d never fit in. Not when he was alive, and certainly not since he’d become an immortal killing machine.
“Stay back,” the woman yelled.
A chill ran down his spine, even though the mid-July night was muggy and hot.
“Come party with us. Don’t be shy, pretty lady,” one of the men taunted. “You know you want to. Why else you be out on your own so late at night?”
Another man made some kissing sounds.
The third man scowled. The men ranged across the front of an alleyway, blocking his view of the woman beyond. All of them wore leather jackets, despite the heat. They were likely carrying weapons. He wouldn’t kill them, only teach them a lesson.