She nodded. “I’d heard talk of that in the hall among some of the newly arrived. I’ve heard of the Christians who worship only one god. But if this Lucifer rules their Underworld, is he not a god?”
“In Christian mythology, he is a fallen angel.”
“A fallen angel?”
“Trust me,” Maccus interjected. “Lucifer is an archangel who has delusions of being a god or at least a demigod. It would be too dangerous for him to enter another realm. His presence would be detected, no matter how fast he was. That kind of power leaves a residue and would not go unchallenged.”
“So we’re still looking for an inside man.” That made sense to Bjorn.
“Or woman,” Maccus pointed out.
“Did you feel or hear anything at all before the void?” He hated to push. She was too pale. Her clothes torn, her hands and arms still covered in dirt and grime from her earlier trauma, in spite of his efforts to clean her. She smelled of sweat and other unpleasant odors that had likely come from the alley.
He moved in closer, sniffing her neck.
“What are you doing?” His move surprised her, but she didn’t push him away.
“Smelling you. I want to see if I can scent anyone or anything.” He’d been too focused on simply inhaling her special fragrance earlier to even notice anyone else.
She laughed. The sound ripped through him, piercing his heart. His cock swelled and his palms itched to stroke every inch of her lush body. It had been far too long since he’d heard that precious sound.
“You’re an amazing tracker, husband, but you’re not an animal. Even you have limits.”
She had no idea what he’d become, what he could do. He lowered his head and kept moving down her body, stopping at her waist.
“I scent something dark and powerful. Slippery to catch. Definitely a god. And I think I know which one.”
He gritted his teeth to keep from howling his rage. If he had his way, all the gods would be destroyed. Even the so-called benevolent ones often tampered with humans and their fates. They’d run amok since the dawn of time, creating havoc and leaving destruction in their wake.
“Who?” Maccus asked.
“Loki. I thought it odd Odin came to me when you were in Freya’s Hall. If Loki went to him with the information…”
Anja grew even paler, her skin almost translucent. “I have done nothing, but the gods will destroy me. Freya will believe I betrayed her.”
“I won’t let that happen.” He knelt before her and took her hands in his.
“You cannot stop them. Your heart is brave, your sword arm strong, but you are still only a man, Bjorn Knutson.”
He shook his head. “I have not been a man for more than fourteen hundred years. Do you not wonder why I did not find you?”
She nodded. “Many times. When I wasn’t cursing you, I prayed you were in Valhalla or that you had been reincarnated to serve the gods. I feared you had forgotten me.”
“Never!” It was time to tell his wife the truth. “I am much more than a man. I am a member of the Forgotten Brotherhood.”
Chapter Four
Love for her husband filled her heart to overflowing, but the frown on his face had her stomach in knots.
She licked her dry lips. “What is this Forgotten Brotherhood?” She eyed the other powerful men in the room. They were still, watchful. “Are they members as well?”
“The first rule of the Brotherhood is we don’t talk about the Brotherhood.” Asher paused a moment and shrugged. “Come on. No one? Not even a small smile? You’re a hard audience.”
Anja had no idea what he was talking about.
Jo patted his arm. “I get the reference to the movie Fight Club, but I don’t think anyone else does.”
They’d lost her now. Anja was adrift in this strange new world with its tall buildings and odd weapons.
Maccus glared at Bjorn. Again, her fingers itched to hold a knife. She didn’t think he was intentionally trying to intimidate her. This seemed to be how he moved through the world.
“I’ll tell her, but first my wife needs a shower, some clean clothes, and a meal.”
That sounded like perfection. She had no idea when she’d last eaten or bathed. Even more, she needed to get away from these strangers, if only for a while. It was all so overwhelming. Her head pounded and her stomach was unsettled. It was taking everything she had not to scream or cry or laugh uncontrollably.
She needed to be alone with her husband.
“There’s a guest room, second door on the left,” Morrigan told them. “I’ll bring in some clothes. We’re about the same size.”
Bjorn lifted her off the comfortable seating and carried her to their assigned quarters. She should protest, should make him put her down so she could walk, but she didn’t want to. And, honestly, she wasn’t sure she could. She was weaker than she’d like to admit.
“I’m sorry.” When he pressed a kiss against her forehead, she gave in to the need for comfort and rested her head on his shoulder. “This must all be so confusing.”
“Everything is different here. The buildings, the clothing, the furniture.” He carried her through a clean, bright room with a huge bed with plush coverings. “Is Maccus rich?”
“He is, but many people have what he has, just not as good a quality or as much of it.” He kept going into a smaller chamber. There was a large white trough, a space covered in thin white blocks that went from the floor to the ceiling, a seat with a hole in it that seemed partially filled with water, and a long workspace with a washing vessel in the center. A bathing chamber. No, bathroom. That’s what it was called. How she wished she’d paid closer attention to those who had come after her. Still, she’d learned plenty listening to the stories told late into the night or overhearing conversations while she’d worked.
Things were basic in the afterlife, much to the disgruntlement of some of the newer arrivals. There’d been talk of modifications and improvements in Valhalla, but Freya’s Hall continued on much as it had for centuries.
He set her down on a countertop, and she ran her hand over the fine stone. She didn’t belong in a place this grand. Bjorn turned a handle on a wall of tile, and water shot out from above. The sparkling tiled area was a shower.
The corners of his mouth twitched as he pressed his index finger to the base of her chin and pushed her mouth shut. She glowered at him. “It’s impressive.”
“That it is.” He gripped the hem of her tunic and eased it over her head.