EPILOGUE
The passenger door opened and Jace took Ski’s hand. He helped her out of the car and she immediately smoothed down the skirt of her dress. It was a cute dress she’d borrowed from a sister-Crow, but she didn’t usually wear clothes like this. But she knew tonight was special, and if she didn’t want to get yelled at for “not even trying!” she had to put on the damn dress.
“Breathe,” Ski told her.
“I’m breathing.”
“Actually, you’re growling. And your eyes are getting that red tinge.”
He was right, of course, which was why he’d had to drag her here. She’d give anything to be in the Protector library doing her research. That’s where she’d been for the last two weeks and she’d been loving it. Every day, she went to the library and immersed herself in books, looking to see if her still shaky—and possibly ridiculous—plan could possibly work to kill Gullveig. And every night she went to Danski Eriksen’s bed.
It would all be perfect if she had any clue that she was on the right track. But Kera had been right. Jace wasn’t in this alone. She had the Protectors and the Maids working right along with her and none of them were about to give up. They wouldn’t.
“It’ll be fine,” Ski promised. “We brought baklava.”
Jace laughed and leaned in, kissing him.
“Thank you for coming with me.”
“Did you think I would miss this for the world?” He picked up the big box of baklava and headed to the small house.
Seeing it again, after all this time, nearly had Jace exploding into one of her panic attacks, but she fought it. Everything was going to be fine.
“There is one thing,” Ski said, stopping in front of her.
“What?”
He winced a little, making Jace think something was horribly wrong until he said, “I love you.”
“Oh.” Jace nodded. “I know. You told me.”
“Actually . . . I didn’t.”
“You did. I clearly remember you telling me you loved me.”
“No. I said you drove me crazy. I meant, at the time, literally that you were driving me crazy.”
“Whatever,” she said, walking around him, “but that’s not how I remember it.”
She heard him laugh behind her and knew her face was bright red from embarrassment, but she ignored it and went to the door, ringing the bell.
A few seconds later, the door opened and Jace blinked, looked at a startled Ski, then back at the door.
“Bear? What are you doing here?”
“Your grandmother invited us. She said she wanted to get to know the men who are going to be around her granddaughter. Then she called me annoying and hung up the phone while I was still talking.”
Ski sized up his brother Protector. “Did you ask her a lot of questions, Bear?”
“I guess some might say, but I thought they were very pertinent.”
“Of course you did.”
“She invited you guys,” Jace asked, “but not my sister-Crows?”
“She called them whores she didn’t want around her other grandchildren.”
Jace turned to leave but Ski blocked her with his body.
“Anyway,” Bear went on, clueless, “she has Norwegian beer.” He held up the bottle, gazed at them both a moment more, then walked away.
Ski blew out a breath. “Why do I do what I do again?” he asked Jace. “Could you remind me?”
“To save the world and dole out Tyr-style justice.”
“Right. You’re right.”
He started to open the screen door, but she caught his leather jacket, tugged. “And you love me?” At the moment, she needed to hear it again. Before she faced Nëna.
Ski smiled, pressed his forehead against hers. “And I love you.”
They stood like that for a long time until Jace heard Nëna bark, “Do you two mind not doing whatever disgusting thing you’re doing on my front porch so the neighbors don’t think I have some whores living here? Thank you!”
Jace growled, and Ski immediately held up the pastry box. “Baklava. We have baklava. Even she can’t resist that.”
“You seriously do not know my grandmother.”
Hel, comfortable once again in the new armor created by the dwarves of Asgard, opened the mystical doorway and reached in. She dug around until she felt Gullveig’s energy.
She grabbed the god’s hand and yanked her into Helheim.
And the snotty bitch was still screeching.
“Shut up!”
“Where the fuck have you been?”
Hel raised a finger. “We need to make something clear. I don’t work for you, heifer. I’m doing you a favor.”
“And why is that?”
“Before it was because I was bored. But now it’s because the Crows have pissed me off.”
“And for that you’ll bring Ragnarok down on humanity’s head?”
“You’re doing it because you’re pissed at your sister.”
“That’s different.”
“And what do I care?” Hel asked. “Ragnarok or not, there’ll always be a place for the dead and its queen. Now, are you in or out?”
“In.” Her hands curled into fists. “I want my necklace back!”
“You and that necklace . . .”
Gullveig started to walk away, but her legs gave out and she went down on her knees.
Hel snapped her fingers at one of the Carrion and motioned to Gullveig.
“Go, sister,” she soothed, patting her shoulder. “Get some rest. Get your strength back.”
The Carrion helped the god up, and she studied Hel. “And then what?”
“And then . . . I think it’s time for you to meet my father.”
“I did meet your father. He tried to kill me, too!”
Exasperated, Hel snapped, “Okay, dude, you really need to let that go already!”