CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“So let us discuss the big, huge, ridiculously bad mistake you Sladies have made.”
Jace winced, watching Chloe’s jaw tense. That was never a good sign.
“You’re blaming this on us?” Chloe growled.
“Who else should we blame it on? You had a chance to stop her and you didn’t.”
“We thought we had.”
“Well, you were painfully wrong. Sacrifices are up—”
“There are always sacrifices.”
“Natural disasters have grown substantially since the day you thought you’d stopped her. Earthquakes in Iowa. That pesky little flood in the Gobi Desert. And the five hundred miles of rain forest that turned into ice. You don’t think that’s because of her?”
“Perhaps. Or maybe that Fallen bastard you people can’t seem to keep control of has gotten out of hand again. Or maybe he’s bred another Antichrist. Or maybe these are just signs.”
“The sacrifices aren’t signs. They’re offerings and you know it. And the longer she’s here, the more her power grows.”
“I know!” Chloe bellowed, her patience snapping. “Oh, I know,” she said, calmer. “And we’ll deal with it.”
“Then fucking deal with it, pagan. Because once we step in—”
“Don’t threaten us, Christian. As we both know, the Clans don’t take kindly to it. Let us not forget what was started in 1618.”
“And I’d hate for there to be another episode like the Salem witch trials. Remind me again, Crow, how many of you were left by the time it was all done?”
Chloe stood, her chair thrown back, her hands landing hard against the table. And Sister Theresa Marie was there to meet her, their noses and fingers nearly touching as they leaned in close to each other, eyes locked in a centuries-old battle begun long before either woman’s great-great-grandparents had even been born.
Jace took in the rest of the room. She saw hands move toward hidden weapons. Bodies tense. Gazes dart.
This was seconds from getting out of hand, so she readied herself to step in, hoping to prevent that from happening.
But then Kera was there, slapping her own hands on the desk, leaning in, and screaming, “Am I really the only one completely freaked out by the Four Horsemen sitting around a waiting room?”
“New girl?” Sister Theresa Marie asked Chloe, neither angry gaze wavering from the other.
“New girl.”
“You know I’m right here!”
Theresa Marie laughed. “Your ex-Catholics are the best, pagan.”
“Best. Worst. Whatever.”
“Gullveig returning to this world is a bad thing,” Tyr told Ski and Gundo. “A bad thing for everyone.” Tyr’s shoulders hunched, his two hands—the metal and flesh—twisting together. “I’m not saying what the family did to her was right. It wasn’t. But there’s something about that female. Wherever she goes, she brings despair. As she walked around Valhalla that day, in and out of all the rooms, coveting all the gold . . . every time she smiled, my bones literally filled with dread.
“If she can, she will unbalance this world just to get even with us.” He sat back in the chair, the poor metal squealing in protest. “She needs to be stopped. Now.”
“Excuse my directness,” Gundo said. “But I’m not sure why none of you are doing this. She’s a god, all of you are gods . . . you can all do god things together.”
“She’s not in Asgard. She’s here. And here is protected by you. All of you. Because Gullveig will bring Ragnarok if she can. I believe that’s her goal.”
“We’ll do whatever we have to,” Ski told his god.
“Good. But this also means that you, Ski, will have to work with the other Clans.”
“Of course.”
“You have more skill with that than Ormi, and he’ll be prepping with the other Clan leaders for battle.”
“I understand. Anything you need.”
“Of course this also means you’ll need to work with the Ravens.”
“Why do you hate me?”
Gundo laughed and Tyr shook his head. “Still with this?” the god asked.
“There’s just so much stupid.”
“You manage with the Giant Killers well enough. And they’re stupid.”
“The Killers are what the Killers are.”
“Right. Stupid.”
“But the Ravens don’t have to be stupid. They choose to be. Am I the only one here who really finds that offensive?”
Tyr and Gundo shared a look before both shook their heads and replied, “No.”
“Maybe we could all calm down,” Jace suggested.
Erin pulled Kera over to a corner, attempting to keep her from spinning out.
Sister Theresa Marie slowly turned her head to look at Jace. Her eyes deadly cold underneath that prim habit, a smattering of brown and gray bangs peeking out.
Finally, the nun said, “You are such a lovely young lady, Jacinda Berisha. I truly don’t understand what you’re doing with these evil, godless bitches.”
Skin met skin as Chloe’s hand cracked across Theresa Marie’s face.
The nun stood there for a moment, eyes focused on a spot behind Jace’s head, a small trickle of blood forming in the corner of her mouth until it slowly rolled down her chin.
When she finally turned her head back toward Chloe, it was so Theresa Marie could crack her neck.
Jace stepped closer to the desk. “Perhaps I was not clear on the meaning of the word ‘calm’?”
“I expect you to do the right thing, Danski Eriksen,” Tyr told him.
“Even if it’s incredibly painful?” And Ski knew he was whining. Most of the Nordic gods didn’t stand for whining, but Tyr was extremely patient.
Plus, Ski was sure that Tyr knew he was kind of kidding. Kind of.
“Yes. Even if it’s painful. Do you think it’s easy dealing with Odin? Or, by all that is in my name,” he said on a sigh, “Thor?” He shook his head. “Thor. It is so tragic when your hammer is smarter than you are.”
Gundo quickly covered his mouth and looked off, working hard to keep his laugh in. Ski just used what he called his “blank expression.” It was a true skill he’d honed over the years working with the other Clans.
“But,” Tyr said, his voice filled with conviction, “we must overlook the weakness of those beneath us and fight to keep the world right. Understand?”
“Is this where we chant your name?” Ski asked.
“Are we Ravens now?” Tyr demanded. “If you’re performing some kind of magical rite or sacrifice, feel free to chant away. Otherwise . . . don’t. You know too much noise annoys me unless I’m in battle or celebrating a victory.”
“We’ll deal with this, Tyr,” Ski promised. “We’ll start at the All-Clan meeting Ratatosk is going to tell me about.”
The god finally looked down at the immortal squirrel. “What’s he doing?”
Ratatosk was still lying flat on the table, eyes closed—groaning dramatically.
“We’ve been ignoring him. He hates that.”
Tyr rolled his eyes and asked the squirrel, “Why are you still here, little rodent? I’m sure you have messages to get to the other Clans and I can fill my loyal sons in on the pertinent information.”
Ratatosk chittered and Tyr’s usually placid expression filled with rage, his fist slamming down on the metal table, crumpling it.
The squirrel scrambled off before he was trapped among the twisted wreckage.
Tyr shot to his feet. “Odin said that?” he roared. “Then let that one-eyed bastard say it to my face!”
Ski held up his hand, halting his god. “Source, Tyr,” he reminded him quietly; yelling was never effective when dealing with any god of any pantheon. “Note the source of this information.”
Tyr let out a breath, nodded. “Of course, dearest Ski, you are right as always.” He flicked his middle finger and Ratatosk flew. “Away with you, vile rodent. Tell your lies to someone else!”
Ratatosk hit a bush and disappeared.
“I don’t think anyone has ever accused Ratatosk of being a liar,” Gundo remarked for some unfathomable reason.
“Shut up,” Ski warned his friend.
Thankfully, Tyr seemed oblivious as he sat back down, the metal chair squealing again at all that weight forced into it.
“You are always very reasonable, Danski Eriksen. Just like your ancestor Bárðr ‘The Friendly’ Eriksen. He may have pulled that twelfth-century monastery down stone by stone to get to the gold within and taken all the young monks as slaves, but he was very reasonable when he slaughtered the other Christians.”
“Thank you, Tyr.”
“Of course.” He gestured to the remnants of the table. “And I will pay to replace this.”
“No need.”
“I insist. How much?”
“Twenty thousand.”
“Dollars? Are you mad, boy?”
Ski winced at his god’s bellow. “It was handcrafted by an Icelandic designer.”
“I don’t care if Brokkr himself made it,” Tyr snarled, talking about the dwarf who helped his dwarven kin create Thor’s hammer, Freyr’s ship, and Odin’s spear. “Who spends that kind of coin?”
As kind and good-natured as Tyr definitely was—especially as gods go—he was definitely tight with a buck.
“Why can’t you be more thrifty, like your Boston brothers?”
“They’re not thrifty,” Ski corrected. “They’re poor.”
“Of course they’re poor,” Gundo interjected. “They’re all college professors . . . in the arts.”
Tyr shook his mighty head and muttered the phrase he always did when discussing finances with Ski or Ormi, “You LA people.”
Chloe’s body collided with the office door, taking it down, and rolled back out into the waiting room.
Pestilence laughed. War cheered. Death looked annoyed. And Famine appeared mildly concerned.
Adjusting her short habit, Sister Theresa walked out after Chloe.
And before Jace could stop her, Erin followed, wrapping her arm around the nun’s throat and pulling her back.
If that had been it, both Jace and Kera would have stepped in to stop Erin. But two other sisters and two laywomen with tattoos and old scars jumped in. Jace still wanted to stop any of this from getting worse, but one of the laywomen pressed a switchblade against Kera’s neck.
That’s when Jace no longer cared if Erin burned the whole convent down and the Crows laughed in the ashes.
“Let Kera go or I will tear your heart out through your pussy!” Jace growled.
“Okay,” Erin said, immediately releasing Sister Theresa and putting her hands up. “I don’t know what Jace just said, because she didn’t say it in English.”
“It was Slovakian,” War interjected, “and it was rude.”
“But when she starts speaking in different languages,” Erin went on, “everyone needs to calm the fuck down.”
“She’s right,” Death said, grabbing a copy of House & Garden magazine from one of the end tables. “She’s about to put me to work, so maybe you babes should think about taking it down a notch. Because I’m not in the mood today to start grabbing souls that aren’t already on my list. Me and my brothers are going surfing tonight,” he added, as if that would mean anything to any of them.
Sister Theresa smoothed down the front of her plain white, button-down shirt and simple greenish-blue calf-length skirt. An ensemble that hid a woman who’d been a Chosen Warrior of God since she was fourteen. She’d been fighting demons, the warriors of other pantheons, and every form of pure evil known—and unknown—to man for decades.
And these ladies were even more secretive about their activities than the Crows. Only a select few of the Vatican priests even knew these warriors existed. The rest thought they were just nuns—there to serve God and them. According to the Mother Superior, that was for “men’s own good. You know they can’t handle too much. It’s best for everyone they lead their lives in ignorance.”
The switchblade was moved away from Kera’s throat and Jace’s rage disappeared.
She didn’t realize until that moment how protective she was of her new friend. She really liked Kera. Not just as a sister-Crow, not just as a team member. But as an actual girlfriend. Something Jace had never had before. Of course, maybe she should have realized all that when she didn’t mind Kera coming by her room just to chat. It didn’t annoy Jace like when the others tried to do the same thing. Then again, Kera’s chit-chat was never small talk either. The woman did love to discuss big issues of the day.
Erin helped Chloe back to her feet.
“You’re psychotic,” Chloe accused Sister Theresa.
“And you’re an idiot. Do you really think I have the Four Horsemen sitting in our waiting room for shits and giggles? I can actually see what they look like, you know?”
“Hey,” Famine complained, “I thought you liked us.”
When Sister Theresa and Chloe just stared at him, Famine shrunk back in his chair, pouting. “Forget it.”
“You know how this works, pagan,” Sister Theresa practically snarled at Chloe. “If even just one of our end of days is set off, it leads to all the others. From Ragnarok to us to the Hindus, to the Muslims, to the Greeks, to the Romans, and on and on and on until it’s all gone. Is that what you want?”
“Of course not.”
“Then fix it, Crow! Gullveig is your problem, not ours!”
Chloe made a move as if she was about to go after Theresa again, but Erin yanked their leader back by her shoulder, if for no other reason than because Chloe should really stop making moves on Sister Theresa. Sadly, this was not the first time the nun had thrown the Crow leader through a door. These Christian warriors were well trained and insanely powerful. Some took the vows to be nuns. Some didn’t. But they all fought the same fight for the future of the human race in the name of their higher power.
And the Crows wouldn’t have been any kinder if the roles were reversed. Nothing pissed off the Clan leaders more than when the Christians couldn’t keep their demons or archangels in check.
Chloe took a deep breath, trying to rein in her temper. “We have an All-Clan meeting on Monday. We’ll discuss this further then. Happy?”
“Ecstatic. Bitch.”
Chloe went for her again, but Erin caught her around the waist and dragged her to the front door and out into the hallway, leaving Jace and Kera alone with warrior nuns, warrior laywomen, and the Four Horsemen.
Kera began, “Uh—”
Jace slapped her hand over her friend’s mouth and led her to the door.
“We’ll handle it,” Jace promised, pushing Kera out into the hallway. She nodded, first at the Horsemen. “Gentlemen.” Then at the sisters and laywomen. “Sisters. Ladies.”
With nothing else to say, Jace closed the door and let out a relieved breath.
“Those women are nuns? Are we sure?” Kera asked.
“Some of them are. Some are laywomen who were orphaned street kids the nuns take in and train to be the Chosen Warriors of God. If they have the calling for that role.”
“Those nuns seem stronger than I remember from when I was a kid.”
“Really?” Jace asked. “I haven’t met a nun yet who hasn’t had strength. She’d have to, don’t you think? Just to take her vows. To commit to this life. I mean . . . could you?”
They stared at each other a moment, then moved off down the hall without bothering to reply.
As they walked, they passed three tall, exquisite men.
Jace greeted them by name as she always had since the day her grandmother had introduced her to them. They’d been having tea in her grandmother’s kitchen “Michael. Raphael. Khamael.”
“Hey, Jace.”
“Hey, sweetie.”
“Jacie-girl! How you doin’?”
Kera stopped and focused on the three men walking into the office they’d just left.
“Jace, was that . . . are those . . .”
“Do you really want to know, Kera? Do you really think you can handle knowing exactly who those men are?”
Kera shook her head. “No. I really don’t think I can.”
Jace put her arm around Kera’s shoulders and led her to the front door of the convent. “Come on. Let’s get you some ice cream.”
“I thought we were going to get the dogs groomed.”
But that would mean going back to the house to get the dogs . . . where they were still setting up for Kera’s party.
“That can wait,” Jace said casually. “Especially when you look like you need the ice cream more than Brodie needs a bath.”
“Ice cream. Liquor. Whichever.”
“So what do you think, brother?” Gundo asked after Tyr had given them details of the All-Clan meeting before wandering off.
“That we should allow for traffic when we decide what time to leave for the Crows’ party tonight.”
Gundo shook his head. “Not that, you eager idiot.”
Ski grinned. He was a bit eager. He couldn’t wait to see Jace. He was a bit sorry he’d told her it was Saturday. It would have been nice to have her hanging out in their library again.
“I’m talking about Gullveig.”
“Oh,” Ski replied. “Well . . . if Tyr says she’s here, she’s here. The Crows failed to stop her. It’s not good, but it happens.”
“Still, Chloe won’t like being questioned about this.”
“No. But I wouldn’t worry too much. Compared to leaders of some of the other Clans, Chloe Wong is calm and rational.”
“You didn’t even try to help!” Chloe accused Kera from the front seat of the SUV that Erin was driving back to Malibu.
“They were nuns!” Kera yelled. “I was raised Catholic!”
Chloe turned in her seat so she could look at Kera behind her. “That was your First Life! In this life, they’re your enemy!”
“They didn’t do anything wrong! You started it!”
Chloe gasped. “I did not!”
“Suggesting Thor swung the hammer that drove the nails into the cross was a great way to calm down the situation.”
“I was joking!”
“Not funny!”
“It was kinda funny,” Erin muttered.
“Shut up!” Kera snapped.
Jace’s phone vibrated in her back pocket and she quickly checked it, assuming it was about the party.
See you tonight.
It took Jace a moment to realize the text was from Ski. For two panicked seconds, she thought it might be from Haddock, and she hated him more for once again tainting her Second Life.
She quickly shook the anger off, though. She wasn’t going to let him do this to her. Not again.
She replied:
Yes. See you tonight.
She almost put her phone away, but it vibrated again.
And don’t forget . . . it’s Saturday.
Rolling her eyes and smiling at the same time, she texted back two words.
Shut up.
Again focusing on the argument happening right next to her, she heard Kera bark, “You really are a piece of work, you know that?”
Chloe unbuckled her seat belt so she could fully turn around in her seat, rising up on her knees, and pointing a finger at Kera. “Look, I don’t care what religion you came from, little girl. Now you’re one of us! And that means when a nun throws a right cross, you back me the fuck up!”
“It was a left jab, and you deserved it!”
“Your nose is broken, by the way,” Erin pointed out to Chloe.
Growling, Chloe grabbed her nose between both hands and jerked one way, then the other until she’d sort of forced the pieces back into place.
“And let me explain something to you,” Kera went on, ignoring the cracking sound that went along with Chloe fixing her nose. “When I was growing up with my crazy mother, it was the nuns who helped me. It was Sister Mary Angelic who noticed the occasional bruises. It was Mother Mary Francis who told my mother if she did it again, the wrath of God would fall upon her, because the only thing my mother feared was the wrath of God since she never took the social worker assigned to our case ever a little bit seriously. And it was Sister Mary Typewriter who suggested I join the military after high school graduation to get away from my mother rather than getting pregnant by my boyfriend at the time.”
Erin glanced back. “Sister Mary Typewriter?”
“She was the senior class typewriting teacher, and that’s what we all called her. I don’t remember her real name.”
“Look—” Chloe began, but Kera cut her off.
“So if you think I’m just going to start attacking nuns on your say-so when you started it, our Second Life together is going to be very strained.”
Chloe reached for Kera, and Jace quickly leaned in between them, just as the SUV suddenly stopped and Chloe flew back, her body landing in the foot well, the back of her head slamming into the glove box.
Erin glanced over. “Sorry, Clo.”
“Bitch.”
“I had to stop. There’s a car.”
No, there wasn’t.
Jace leaned forward and patted the leather seat. “Sit, Chloe. And put on your seat belt.”
“But—”
“It’s unsafe! Seat belt!”
Growling, their leader did as Jace ordered.
“Don’t worry, Chloe,” Erin said as she started up the SUV again. “I’ll always have your back with the nuns.”
Kera slapped her hands against her thighs. “Because they clearly hated you, Amsel!”
Erin’s laugh was happy and boisterous. “They do! Even before I became a Crow. In high school. Junior high. Kindergarten. They hated me! I still don’t know why.”
“Why were you going to Catholic schools?” Chloe asked. “I thought your mom raised you Jewish.”
“She did. But she had a way of pissing off our rabbis. So we always ended up with the nuns and priests since my dad was Catholic.”
“In other words,” Kera remarked, “your ability to piss people off is in the blood.”
Erin nodded, grinning. “It really is.”
Jace sighed. “Am I the only one who’s concerned that we seem to have failed to stop Gullveig from entering this world and that she’s probably here to start Ragnarok?”
“Of course you’re not the only one concerned,” Chloe said, finally sounding a little more reasonable. “We’re just in denial about it, but we’ll deal with it.”
“But don’t you worry, Kera,” Erin added, giving her a thumbs-up. “This will not ruin your party tonight!”
Slowly, Kera’s gaze moved over to Jace. Help me, she mouthed.
But there was no help for poor Kera. She’d have to suffer through the upcoming indignation just like the rest of them had done . . .