CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER EIGHTVig walked Kera back to the Bird House. As they neared the front door, she stopped and gazed at the roof. “That is a lot of birds up there.”He looked up and saw the crows and ravens that perched protectively around the Crows’ main home. The Ravens had a few of their own, but apparently they weren’t nearly as entertaining as the Crow Clan.“They have your back, too.”Kera faced Vig. “What if I never get along with them? What if the Crows never accept me?”“You can always transfer to one of the other Crow units. They’re all over the States.” Vig took a step closer. “But then I’d be kind of miserable. You know . . . if you left. And then who knows how bad my thousand-yard stare might get. I might start terrorizing fast food workers, gas attendants . . . crazed cops with itchy trigger fingers.”Kera laughed, her smile bright. “You’re ridiculous.”“Just give it a chance. That’s all I’m asking. Before you make any decisions.”“For you, I’ll give it a shot.”“Thank you.”They were silent for a moment, gazing at each other, until the front door opened and two Crows walked out with Brodie.“Oh, hey! You’re back,” they said to Kera. She glanced at the pair, smiled, turned back to Vig, and that’s when her eyes grew wide. She spun around and stared down at her dog.“What is she wearing?”One Crow grinned. “Oh my God! Isn’t this amazing. The collar”—which was pink—“is studded with Swarovski crystals. It’s fabulous, isn’t it? And it was a little pricey, but don’t worry. That’s on me. But they threw in the leash—”“It’s retractable.”“—and the tutu! For free!”“You have my dog in a tutu.”“It makes her look much less intimidating. Pit bulls have such a harsh reputation that we thought making her pretty would work to her benefit.”Kera held out her hand. “Give me my dog.”“But—”“Give me my dog.”The Crow silently handed over the retractable leash.Kera held it up in front of the women.“Retractable leashes are shit. If you’re taking my dog out for a jog, you’ll use a proper leash or you’re not taking out my dog. Do I make myself clear?”“But it matches her collar.”“Do”—she barked loudly, the crows on the roof squawking in response—“I make myself clear?”Eyes wide, the two women nodded.“And no tutus.”“She looks darling—”“Ever! No tutus ever!”“But it also matches her collar and has Swarovski crystals on it.”“I don’t care if it’s made of mithril, you are not to put my dog in a fucking tutu!”Vig leaned down and asked, “Mithril?”“Quiet,” she warned him before refocusing on the two Crows. “Have I made myself clear?”“Very,” one snapped back, “but you weren’t very nice about it.”“You put my pit bull in a tutu. You’re lucky that the only thing I did was not be nice to you.”The women stomped off and when Kera turned to face Vig, he quickly reminded her, “You already promised you’d give this a shot.”Her mouth had been open, about to speak, but now she shut it. Her nose twitched. She wanted to argue with him.“You promised,” he said again. “And as a Marine . . . you would, of course, honor your commitment.”Now she glared at him. “Fine,” she said. “But that was a little bit devious.”He shrugged. “Viking.”Kera reached down and removed the tutu from around Brodie’s narrow hips; she shoved it into Vig’s hands. “Take this. Burn it.”“You’d let her keep it if it was mithril.”“If it was mithril,” Kera shot back, “I’d make it into a shirt and wear it to protect me from orcs and trolls trying to run me through with spears. But it’s not mithril.”Laughing, Vig watched her open the front door. That’s when he asked, “What about the Swarovski crystals?”Kera glowered at him, opened her mouth to speak, closed it, opened it again, then finally slammed the door in his face.And still laughing, Vig walked home. 

Erin was going to bed when she stopped outside her room. She looked down the hall toward Kera’s room. The door was partially open, light spilling into the hallway.Erin walked to her door and pushed it open. She saw the dog first. She was asleep on the bed, stretched out from one end to the other of the queen mattress. There was also snoring.Then Erin focused on Kera. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, furiously writing on a new notepad, which was attached to another clipboard. Where the hell is she getting all these clipboards from?“Kera?”“Uh-huh?”“Everything okay?”“Yeah. Just working out some possible schedules. Making a few lists.” She looked up at Erin. “Do you guys have weekly team meetings?”“Not unless we have to.”“Really? Huh.” Kera began writing furiously on her notepad again.“Okay, then . . . ’night,” Erin said, easing out of the room.“’Night.”After backing out of the room and softly shutting the door, Erin blew out a breath.“Leigh’s right,” she muttered to herself as she went back to her own room. “I need to do something about her and do it quick or they’re all gonna kill her.” 

Vig stared up at the big hilltop home, crossed his arms over his chest, and slowly turned his glare to his Raven leader.“Have you lost your mind?” Siggy asked. “Why are we here?”“Ormi wanted to see me.”“So?”“It sounded important.”“Or it could be a setup.”“I don’t think it is. Besides”—Josef motioned to Vig—“I brought him.”Vig didn’t understand that. “What do I have to do with anything?”Josef began to answer but Vig felt the air around him change the slightest bit. He turned and swung his fist, hitting one of the Protectors who had flown in behind him in the face and sending him flat on his back. As always, none of the Ravens heard the Protectors come up behind them. Like owls, Protectors had wings that allowed them to fly—and hunt—in near silence.Vig was one of the few Ravens able to sense the slight change in air as they moved in close only because it was a skill passed on through his family line.A necessary skill since the Protectors were developed by the god Tyr in direct response to the actions of the Ravens and Crows at the time. And because even the gods had a sense of humor, Tyr based his Protectors on the great horned owl . . . the natural predators of Crows and Ravens. At one time, the Protectors did nothing else but hunt and kill Crows and Ravens. It was their only job. But times changed and the purpose of the Protectors shifted to ensuring none of the Clans, official or otherwise, ever became too powerful. In the end, they helped protect the balance of the world. If the Crows and Ravens didn’t threaten that balance, they usually left them alone. But Crows and Ravens forget nothing. Even things that happened more than a thousand years ago.To this day, Crows were known to still mob Protectors when they thought they were too close to them. It could happen any time and anywhere. More than one football riot in Europe began not because of some overzealous fans but because some Crows spotted a Protector and acted accordingly.It didn’t help that European Crows and Ravens really loved football.Vig stared down at the Protector, who was bleeding from his face. He debated what to do and, with a shrug, decided he should probably just kill him. But as he was leaning down to finish him off quickly—he didn’t believe in tormenting people before ending them, that always seemed tacky to him—Josef grabbed Vig’s arm and yanked him back.“We’re not here to kill anybody.”“He started it,” Vig pointed out.“He flew up behind you.”“He started it.”Josef sighed, something he did a lot when he was talking to Vig, which was why Vig didn’t understand why Josef wanted to bring him. 

Danski “Ski” Eriksen led the Ravens into his leader’s grand library. The Protectors, unlike the Ravens, were thinkers. And every leader had an elaborate library filled to the brim with knowledge. Not only did they have these libraries but every Protector made it his business to know and understand each of the books held within.Knowledge was the most important thing when it came to keeping balance in the world. Without knowledge there was only anarchy and decay and Clans running out of control. An existence no Protector could tolerate.Ormi had been Ski’s leader since he’d first arrived for training. He was six at the time. Found by Tyr himself and taken from his family when he was six, Ski had never looked back. Unlike the Ravens and most of the other Clans, one Protector didn’t pass his legacy on to his son. Instead, Tyr chose from anyone he wanted to. Anyone he felt was worthy. In fact, more than one Viking-descended family had children in different Clans, which often made for awkward Thanksgiving dinners. The Clans could be just as contentious with each other as they were to those they considered their enemies. What kept them from outright killing each other was each Clan’s need to barter for items they couldn’t just get from anyone and the fact that some of them were related. Besides, sometimes the Clans really did need each otherIn fact, a recent issue that Ormi had just noticed was starting to turn into something that required the assistance and knowledge of more than one Clan. Although why Ormi was involving the Ravens of all Clans, Ski didn’t know.The Ravens were crass loud dullards who weren’t worthy of the Protectors’ time. They killed first, asked questions later . . . maybe. If they felt like it. And for Josef Alexandersen to bring his head killer with him to meet with Ormi was the highest of insults as far as Ski was concerned.He glanced back at Vig Rundstöm before walking into the library. Personally, he wouldn’t allow the man to sully the hallowed halls of this sacred space, but it wasn’t his decision. Ormi led the Southern California Protectors. He made all the decisions and Ski would never question him.“They’re here,” Ski said by way of introduction.Ormi smirked at him. They’d worked together long enough for Ormi to know exactly what Ski thought of the Ravens.Ormi leaned back in his chair, green eyes looking over the Ravens. “I see you brought your pit bull,” he noted, staring at Rundstöm.The slow-witted Raven pointed at himself. “Wait . . . who? Me?”Already disgusted—and they’d just gotten there—Ski went around Ormi’s chair and stood behind him. He wouldn’t let anything happen to his leader. Not while he had breath in his body.Ormi sighed. “Thank the gods you have a talent in blacksmithing, boy. Otherwise, I don’t know how you’d survive.”“You called us here so you can insult us?” Alexandersen asked.“I didn’t call them anywhere. I called you, Raven Leader.”“Ormi, just get on with it. I don’t have time for this Old World bullshit.” He winked at Siggy Kaspersen and added, “I gotta date.”“When your ex finds out about that stripper . . .” Kaspersen sighed out.Stieg Engstrom laughed. “You are dead where you stand.”“Are you idiots done?” Ormi snapped.The Ravens slowly looked down at Ormi, heads tilting as they examined him.Not liking that, Ski cracked his knuckles and he immediately had the four Ravens staring at him.“Nice glasses, Poindexter,” Engstrom sneered.“Aw, dude, don’t pick on him,” Kaspersen said with all sincerity. “He could be blind.” Then Kaspersen raised his arm and began waving his hand in Ski’s direction. It took a second to realize that he was trying to figure out if Ski was blind.But . . . but Ski had led them in here. He could obviously see them!Rolf Landvik slapped Kaspersen’s hand down before looking back to his phone, and Ormi tried again.“What I have to say to you, Raven Leader, is very important.”“Then say it.”“There’s been a considerable uptick in human sacrifices.”Again, the Ravens stared at Ormi with that blank bird-like stare until Engstrom asked, “So?”Horrified, Ormi snapped, “What do you mean ‘so’?”“He means,” Rolf replied while texting away with his thumbs, “that in troubled times, there is always an uptick in zealous religious fervor. Some join established religions but others join sects that practice human sacrifice. This isn’t exactly a shock.”“Except none of this seems to have anything to do with the world as we currently know it,” Ormi patiently explained. “Instead, all these sacrifices seem to be an attempt to raise one thing.”The texting slowly came to a pause and the dim-witted Ravens refocused on Ormi.“Raise what?” Alexandersen asked.“We’re not sure. But let me ask you . . .” Ormi rested his elbows on the desk and leaned in a bit to look at each and every Raven in the room. “Have any of you been having nightmares . . . ?”