CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Ski jerked awake, body still ready to fight, but soft hands pressed against his shoulders, and softer lips kissed his forehead.
“Shhh. You’re safe.”
Knowing it was Jace, he pulled her close, ready to defend her even though his head hurt and he hadn’t opened his eyes yet.
“Oh!” she gasped, laughing a little. “Don’t worry. We’re both fine. No need to protect me.”
She pulled away and Ski turned toward the voice, blinking, trying to get his eyes to adjust without his glasses. They overcompensated, bringing Jace’s image in so close it was like she was right on top of him. He blinked again, but now it was like she was halfway across the room. Ski knew it was because his head hurt. He had the makings of a solid migraine and that always made it tough to quickly adjust his eyesight so that he could see like a human and not someone blessed by a god. But with his brain hurting, it was simply too much work.
Thankfully, Jace put his glasses on his face and he could see her just fine. At least his eyes could move . . . unlike the actual owls Protectors had been based upon. That’s why their heads turned so far. Because their eyes didn’t move at all. And that’s how the Protectors had started out, too. But that made them more vulnerable to attacks by Crows and Ravens, so Tyr eventually fixed the issue . . .
Oh, gods. He was thinking too much. When his brain hurt, it overcompensated by thinking more than usual. It analyzed, debated, constructed . . . anything and everything the brain could do to work through pain.
Like right this second, he was wondering how the ancient Protectors had managed before glasses were invented. Something he really shouldn’t be worrying about.
Jace carefully adjusted the frames of his glasses behind his ears and smiled down at him. “Better?”
“Much. Thank you.”
She brushed the hair off his forehead. “Are you all right?”
“I have a headache. I dealt with the Carrions well enough . . . didn’t see that gate, though, until it collided with my head. To be honest, considering the speed I was going, I’m lucky the damn thing didn’t take my head clean off. For instance, if you take the square root of—”
“Okay,” Jace cut in. “Let’s not square-root anything. Not much of a math girl. It’s not my thing. I like words. Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I can’t stop thinking. Analyzing. My head really hurts. My brain does that when it hurts.”
“I’m not surprised it hurts.” She winced in empathy. “You have such a knot.”
“I’ll be fine. I just need to stop thinking.”
“Yeah, I’ve tried that . . . it’s impossible for some of us. But good luck!”
That almost made him laugh. “Help me sit up?”
She placed her hand against his back and Ski sat up, legs over the side of the bed, his feet slapping against the floor. He was still dressed, boots and all.
Did it take a long time to make boots? Probably not now, what with all the children in factories putting together the pieces. Child labor . . . morally reprehensible and yet, it was still happening. He should do something about that . . .
“You’re doing it again,” she warned.
“How can you tell?”
“Because you’re staring at me, but I can tell you don’t see me. It’s like I’m sheer glass. It’s strange.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. My ex used to accuse me of the same thing.” She gave a short chuckle. “Of course, that was because it was easier to pretend he wasn’t there or I was somewhere else.”
Ski nodded, focusing on the sound of her voice and innocuous rambling. It gave his brain something to concentrate on rather than all the millions of random thoughts in his head at the moment.
He noticed for the first time the bandages on Jace’s throat and arms. “What happened?”
Jace shrugged. “Decay and death.”
In no mood to ease his way around this conversation the way he usually could, he just asked, “What?”
“I went into a rage.” He could tell that. Her eyes were puffy from crying. “Attacked one of the Carrion. His skin touched mine . . . and now I’m permanently disfigured.”
Ski put his hands to his forehead. His head hurt. He hadn’t had a headache like this since he was rammed into a wall by a Giant Killer when he was eighteen. “No, you’re not.”
“I’m not?”
Ski just reached over and, without looking at her, yanked off one of the bandages.
“Ow!”
“Sorry.”
“Hey.” Jace scrambled off the bed and went to her dresser mirror. She grinned when she saw her skin back to normal. She removed the other bandages. “Oh, thank God,” she finally said. “I don’t want to sound vain—”
“You’re not vain.”
“—but I was worried my skin was going to stay like that. Like part of me was rotting off.”
“If you hold on to the Carrions for too long, you’ll rot to death. Until there’s nothing but bones and dead flesh left for scavenger animals to prey upon.”
When Ski’s response led to nothing but silence, he looked up to see Jace gawking at him, eyes wide, hands still pressed against her skin.
“Sorry. When my head hurts, I’m like every other Protector you’ve met.”
“Tessa might have something for you.”
“Good. I’m assuming the All-Clan meeting has been moved up.”
“It’s tonight. In two hours.”
“I need to be there.”
“Okay.” She came back to the bed and knelt beside him on the mattress. “There’s just one thing, though . . .”
Ski stared at her, waiting for her to tell him what that “just one thing” was. But the longer they looked into each other’s eyes, the worse he began to feel.
Finally, realizing what she was asking of him, he barked, “No!”
“He saved your life.”
“I don’t care!”
“Please. For me.”
“No. Absolutely not. Just so we’re clear here, Jacinda, your pussy’s not worth all that suffering.”
Instead of being insulted, she leaned in closer, gaze locked on him, until he had to admit, “All right, it is! But this isn’t fair!”
“For me. Please.”
“My head hurts.”
“For me.”
He couldn’t fight her. He wanted to. He wanted to get up and walk out and never see her again. But he knew that wouldn’t happen. He was in too deep.
“Fine.”
Grinning, she grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet and out into the hallway.
“Kera!”
Kera came out of another room, dragging an unhappy Vig Rundstöm behind her.
The two Crows pushed the men together until they faced each other, barely inches apart, neither man willing to look at the other.
By Tyr’s missing hand, how had Ski gotten into this?
“Well?” Jace pushed.
“Well what?”
“For me. Please.”
“Stop saying that!” Ski let out a very angry but resigned breath. He looked directly at Rundstöm and snarled, “Thank you for saving my life.”
The Raven stared at Ski a moment before bellowing, “Now you owe your soul to me!”
“Ludvig Rundstöm!” Kera yelled before Ski could punch the bastard in the face. “You promised!”
“He does owe his soul to me. It’s a blood oath!”
“So you’re telling your half-black girlfriend that you’re into slavery?”
“No. Of course not.”
“Then do it right,” she bit out between clenched teeth.
It took the Raven a moment, lips in a tight line, unwilling to open to say the next words. But he finally relented under the withering glare of his girlfriend. “You’re welcome.”
“See?” Kera asked. “That wasn’t so hard, now, was it?”
“It’s not the way of our people!”
“Times change!” she bellowed back. “You’re also not allowed to drag me off by my hair and call me your property! It’s called progress, Viking!”
The All-Clan meeting took place in a cavern underneath Catalina Island. There were many underwater caves and caverns on Catalina but this one was hidden from non-Clan eyes.
And All-Clan meetings were the only time the Crows didn’t have to worry about sea travel. The Claws of Ran would not send the seagulls to attack the Crows so they could be dragged to the ocean floor to drown when they fell from the skies.
Not that any of that kept the Crows from enjoying the ocean when they wanted to, but they did all go into it knowing it might end up a fight to the death.
Once they reached the cave entrance, they walked for about a half hour until they entered the cavern. A circular space with nine sections that jutted out of the rock in rows, creating stone benches. In the center of the nine sections was an empty space. Before each section was the god’s rune that represented a particular Clan, and in the center of the room was a circle of all the runes, pulsating with protective power.
The whole cavern reminded Jace of the Coliseum except that no bloodshed was allowed. This was a place of safety and quiet, thoughtful discussion . . .
Kera turned to her. “What’s so funny?” she asked, loud enough to be heard over the yelling.
“Just amusing myself.”
“So I’m not wrong.” Kera threw up her hands. “This is ridiculous!”
No, Kera was not wrong. This was all very ridiculous. The Nine Clans of Southern California had literally only been in here for about twelve minutes, but as soon as Josef saw Chloe, the fight was on, and everyone else just happened to join in.
It was funny to watch, too. At least for her. Each Clan stayed in its designated area, behind the correct runes, while they pointed and yelled at each other.
Every once in a while, Jace would look over at Ski and they’d smile at each other. She knew he wouldn’t intervene until everything calmed down; then he’d negotiate.
Until then, they sat back and watched the Silent loudly argue with the Isa, who gestured inappropriately at Holde’s Maids, who threatened hexes on the Claws of Ran, who spit seawater at the Giant Killers, who sexually harassed the Valkyries, who told the Ravens to kill the Killers, and the Ravens agreed because anything was better than listening to Josef fight with Chloe while the Crows told the Silent that the Isa were planning to kill them.
Jace didn’t go to many All-Clan meetings. Not since one of the Killers pushed her out of the way and she tore his ear off, then burst into tears. But Chloe wanted all those involved in today’s nightmare at this meeting.
Still, everything was manageable and typical of an All-Clan meeting—until the Carrion were mentioned. That’s when everything sort of fell apart. Mostly because no one knew what to do.
The Carrion had never been part of the Nine and they were rarely on this plane of existence. It was said that once one went to Helheim, Helheim was where one stayed. There was no getting out unless Hel released you, and she didn’t release anybody. Even Odin himself couldn’t force her to do anything she didn’t want, including release the god Baldur, whom the other gods had loved so dearly.
She was, perhaps, the most powerful of the Aesir gods, which was why the idea of Gullveig joining forces with her was definitely terrifying.
And yet . . . here they all were. Arguing. As if that would somehow fix their problem. It wouldn’t. It was simply a waste of their time.
Too bad Kera had no tolerance for any of that. She’d been to war-torn countries, fighting to protect others and the United States. So the old Viking ways were not sitting well with the newest Crow.
At least that’s what Jace assumed when her friend suddenly stood up and bellowed like the drill sergeant in Full Metal Jacket, “That is enough!”
Shocked that someone was interrupting what Erin called the Ritual of Yelling Vikings, the entire cavern fell silent, everyone focusing on the “new girl.”
“Do any of you understand what the fuck just happened today?” Kera demanded. “Gullveig is building an army with the Mara and the Carrion. And from what I can tell, the Carrion are the Nordic equivalent of the Red Army during the worst Eastern Front winter. So sitting here, listening to you bitches argue over bullshit is not something I’m willing to do.”
“Well,” the leader of the Silent, Brandt Lindgren, said, his voice dripping with condescension, “what would you suggest, since you seem to have such brilliant insight.”
“Watch your tone, Lindgren,” Vig growled. “Or I’ll tear out your tongue.”
“No,” Kera said, raising her hand at her boyfriend. “I want to answer this, Vig. Because you know what I won’t do?” she asked Lindgren. “I won’t waste my fucking time with your bullshit.”
Erin leaned over and whispered to Jace, “Okay, I kind of love her.”
Jace had to agree. Kera was cutting through all the usual ridiculousness and getting right to the heart of the matter. Her Marine sensibilities simply wouldn’t let her do anything else.
“We also can’t waste our time arguing here. In a cave.” Kera looked around at the Clan members. “We need to come up with a plan. We need to stop Gullveig.”
“How? Even the gods couldn’t.”
“They stopped her, they just couldn’t kill her.”
“And you think that we can?”
“I think that everything can be destroyed. You just gotta find what will do the job.”
“And you believe that with your eminent brilliance you can figure out what that is?”
Kera glanced back at Jace and Erin, and Erin nodded. “Yeah, sweetie, that was totally an insult.”
“Okay. Thanks. I just wanted to check before I snapped.”
But Kera didn’t have the chance to “snap,” because Inka, the leader of Holde’s Maids, did it for her. “Oh, shut up, Brandt. At least she’s trying to do something.”
“And she’s not wrong,” Ormi added. “Gullveig has to be stopped.”
“Then it is up to us,” Freida announced, standing and placing the head of her big hammer on her shoulder. “We shall call upon the mighty power of Thor to destroy her!”
“Oh my gawd,” Rada, leader of the Claws of Ran barked with a heavy, put-upon sigh. “What part of ‘even the gods couldn’t destroy her’ didn’t you understand, Freida? Like, how dumb are you?”
Again, Kera glanced back at Jace and Erin, and Erin whispered, “She’s from the Valley circa 1983.”
“Ohhh. Okay.”
“Our Thor can destroy anything!”
“Your Thor grabbed my tits at the Crow party.”
“Get over it,” Yardley told Rada. “He grabbed everyone’s tits at the Crow party. Even the guys’.” She glanced at her sister-Crows. “It was not pretty.”
Kera lifted her hands, palms out. “Okay, let’s stay focused. I’m sure if Thor could have gotten rid of her, he would have done so the first time they tried. Three times they killed her. Three times they burned her. She kept coming back.”
“Someone’s been reading Snorri Sturluson,” Erin joked to Jace.
“Except he didn’t write the Poetic Edda,” she told her friend, “which is where Gullveig is mentioned. He wrote the Prose Edda.”
“Jace, I’m a German Jew,” Erin sighed. “I know the Torah and I know the Bible. That’s about it. So stop killing my jokes.”
“Except it was incorrect.”
“What do you suggest, Crow?” Inka asked Kera. “What do you think we should do?”
Kera’s eyes widened a bit. “What do I think we should do?”
“You opened your big yap,” Erin reminded her.
“Well, I think the first thing we need to do is come up with an action plan,” Ski interjected before giving Kera a sweet, encouraging smile. “Don’t you think so, Kera?”
“Action plan?” Kera appeared confused for a moment, but her expression cleared quickly. The woman did love active participation. “Yes! An action plan. First we need to list our main goals.”
Chloe suddenly reached into her backpack and pulled out a clipboard with a notepad and a rollerball pen. She handed them over to an eager Kera.
“You brought her a clipboard?” Erin demanded, her lip curling in disgust.
“Do you know what makes me a good leader?” she asked Erin.
“Using others to get your work done?”
“Yes. That is it exactly.”
“First and main goal,” Kera said, writing it down on her pad, “is to destroy Gullveig. But, of course, we can’t do that right away. But that’s our main goal. Our overall objective. Now, all our other goals need to come from this main goal.”
Erin looked at her sister-Crows. “I told you guys, and I told you guys. We should beat her into submission from the beginning. But nooooo. Couldn’t do that! And now look at the situation we’re in! She has a clipboard!”
Ski had to admit once Kera Watson had her own personal goal—getting everything organized—she was a hell of a wartime general. Of course, she didn’t really understand that yet. She didn’t understand that not only had Skuld chosen her as a Crow, but it seemed she’d chosen her to lead the human armies of the Nordic gods into battle, but Kera would figure that out soon enough.
Until then, though, Ski had no problem helping her.
He liked her directness. Her no-nonsense attitude. And her intolerance for others’ bullshit.
She now stood in the middle of the cavern, with the rest of the Clans staring down at her. She’d passed her clipboard off to Yardley, who, although a movie superstar, was happily taking notes for her sister-Crow.
The plan was simple in design but not exactly in execution. There were lots of moving parts, and a lot of relying on sometimes unreliable people and gods getting things done.
The thing was, Ski knew that Kera would make sure things got done. It was in her nature.
“What about the Carrion?” Lindgren asked. Now that everyone else had begun to take Kera seriously, so had the Silent leader. Not that it made him any less of a dick.
“It’ll be up to the Crows and the Ravens to keep them off the Maids’ backs.”
“And us,” Freida called out.
Kera glanced over at Vig, but he could only shrug. If the Giant Killers wanted in, the Ravens and Crows couldn’t really stop them. Besides, they needed all the Clans involved in this.
“Of course,” Kera finally said, forcing a smile. “That would be”—she cleared her throat—“awesome.”
Erin’s snort filled the cavern and when everyone turned to look at her, she put her head down and pretended to have a little coughing fit.
“Anything else I might be missing?” Kera asked. When she didn’t get an answer, she said, “Okay. Guess that’s it.”
The meeting broke up, everyone going their separate ways. There was another small skirmish between Chloe and Josef, but that was broken up quickly and the groups headed down available tunnels to reach the ocean.
Ski pushed through the others to get to Jace’s side. He slipped his hand into hers and she turned, fist raised. But when she saw who it was, she smiled and put her hand down.
“Hi!”
“What was that?”
“What?”
“You were about to hit me.”
“No. Not you.”
Still holding hands, they started walking.
“Come home with me?” he asked.
“I’ll be back in the morning. We have a list of things we have to research.”
“I’m not talking about research, Jacinda.”
“I should go home first. I have to feed the dog.”
“I can feed him,” Kera offered from behind them. She walked with Erin and Yardley, while her Raven boyfriend and the two idiots who traveled with him brought up the rear.
“Maybe you shouldn’t listen to my private conversations.”
Rundstöm wrapped his arms around Kera’s waist and lifted her off the floor. She squealed and laughed, as Erin pushed past them to say to Jace, “Cut Kera some slack, Jace. She’s just trying to get you laid.”
Jace abruptly stopped and faced her friend, her hand still in Ski’s.
Ski stood there, watching her stare down her smaller friend until Erin finally asked, “I don’t know what you’re trying to tell me with this stare.”
“She’s telling you,” Stieg Engstrom explained, “to mind your own business. It’s called discretion. You should try it sometime.”
Engstrom winked at Jace, but when he looked up at Ski, his expression changed to one of . . . well . . . hhhmm . . . yeah. Hatred. Definite hatred. Then he was gone, down the tunnel and out the exit.
Kera moved past them, now attached to Rundstöm’s back. Her arms around his disturbingly thick neck, her legs around his surprisingly narrow waist. She seemed happy, though. Ski couldn’t deny that she did seem happy.
“We’ll take care of Lev, and we’ll touch base tomorrow,” Kera said.
“You sure?”
“Of course.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“Any time.”
As the two Crows chatted amiably, Rundstöm stared at Ski and Ski smiled.
Rundstöm was moving toward him when Kera grabbed a chunk of the Raven’s hair and barked, “No!”
“But—”
“No! Just go.”
“What did you do?” Jace asked when Kera and the Raven were gone.
“Just smiled pleasantly.”
She shook her head as they neared the exit. “Always instigating. You’re almost as bad as Erin!”
As they walked down the tunnel, the stragglers passed them and disappeared into the night. Those with wings took to the skies. Claws grabbed their surfboards and went night-surfin’. Those without wings went to their cars, motorcycles, and trucks.
By the time Jace and Ski reached the exit, they were alone and quiet.
Ski hoped that last night hadn’t scared her. The excitement one felt right after sex tended to wear off, leaving one feeling. . . regretful? Was that what Jace’s silence meant? That she regretted their time together?
He hoped not. But if she did, he’d make it up to her tonight.
He’d take it slow. Maybe make her dinner. They’d discuss philosophers or something. He’d let her know that she meant more to him than just someone new to sleep with.
And he would definitely not jump on her as soon as they walked into the house.
They landed in the Protectors’ backyard and Jace shook out her wings before retracting them.
“You hungry?” Ski asked after doing the same.
“Well . . . yeah . . . I guess.”
He chuckled. “If you’re not hungry yet, Jace, we can do something else. Watch TV. Hit the bookstore down the street. They have cupcakes. Do you like cupcakes? I love cup—”
He loved cupcakes. She didn’t know many men who would happily admit that unless they were trying to show exactly how tough they were. “Yeah. I like cupcakes. What about it?” But not Ski. He loved cupcakes. Going to a bookstore was a fun thing to suggest for two people in a romantic relationship.
She didn’t know if it was the bookstore or the cupcake talk, but one of them prompted her to stick her tongue down Danski Eriksen’s throat.
There was just something about him that made her so crazy. Like hot and cold and itchy. Normally these would be considered signs of an infection. But these weren’t unpleasant experiences for her, just something different.
Still kissing him, Jace pushed him against the closest wall, which turned out to be more of a pillar. Their house had pillars? Well, this was LA, so of course their house had pillars.
Ski dug his hands into her hair, tilting her head to the side and massaging her scalp with the tips of his fingers, and wow! Did that feel good.
For a woman who did not like to be touched—and she really didn’t—she was surprisingly happy to have Ski put his hands all over her. She couldn’t think of one place on her body that she didn’t want his hands to explore. And his mouth.
That thought had her growling—she wasn’t even angry!—and reaching for his jeans. They should do this in his bedroom, but that would have to wait until they got this first one out of the way and—
“There you two are!” Bear said, following a smirking Salka over to them.
And Jace knew that cat was smirking! Evil cat!
Pulling back, Jace unnecessarily adjusted her clothes, but that bit of insecurity didn’t last long once Bear shoved a stack of books into her arms.
“Here. Translate these.” He looked at Ski. “You’ll want to order food in.”
Then he walked away. Just like that. Did he not see what he’d walked in on? Did he not care?
Of course he didn’t. He was Marbjörn Ingolfsson. The most clueless Bear of them all.
“Is everyone here?” Ski asked his Protector brother’s back.
“Yep. So get a lot of food. We’re hungry.”
Ski’s head dropped, chin against his chest. “I’m so sorry, Jace.”
“It’s okay,” she told him around the stack of books, making it a little hard to see.
He took more than half the books from her. “Maybe later—” Ski began.
But it was like Bear knew, and he stuck his head out the glass doors to add, “It’s going to be a late night. Make sure there’s coffee on.”
“By Tyr’s missing hand!” Ski snarled before walking into the house.
Jace stopped long enough to look down at the cat that was walking beside her.
“I know this was you,” she accused. “And you’d better get used to having me around, little miss.”
Salka circled her legs, purring and rubbing herself against Jace for a few seconds before stepping away. That’s when Jace saw the cat’s tail rise up.
“And don’t even think of spraying me!”
Jace watched the cat saunter away, tail flicking at her, and she remembered why she was a dog person.
Kera sat down at the counter in Vig’s kitchen and poured out two glasses of wine. One for her and one for Vig.
“So, how does it feel?” he asked her from the kitchen, where he was whipping up something delicious, she was sure. He was a great cook, but she couldn’t hang with his love of Swedish cooking. French, Italian, Greek . . . fine. But Swedish . . . no. She’d tried, but no.
“How does what feel?”
“Being a war general.”
Kera choked on her wine as Vig walked out of the kitchen, a dish towel tossed over his shoulder. He stared at her through all that hair.
“Something I said?” he asked.
“I’m . . . I’m not a war general.”
“You are now.”
“That’s Chloe.”
“No. Chloe’s the leader of the LA Crows. And she’s that leader all the time. But a war general will lead our Clans into battle. All our Clans. And when you stepped up tonight, that’s what you became. A war general.”
He gazed at her for a bit before asking, “You’re going to throw up, aren’t you?”
Kara shook her head but she guessed he didn’t believe her when he stuck the small trash can by the counter under her face.
“I don’t have to throw up,” she reassured him.
“You sure? When you first got here—”
“I know what I did when I first got here, and no, I don’t have to throw up. I just . . . I’m not a war general. I’m logistics. That’s what I do. I make things happen.”
“For the Clans . . . that’s a war general. If we left it up to everyone else, it would be nothing but fighting and fucking.” He leaned over the basket and kissed her forehead. “You’ll be fine.”
“I hope so. Because if I’m not fine, apparently the world will blow up.”
“No. It won’t blow up. Just nearly everything and everyone will be destroyed in a cataclysm of fire, battle, and blood between the gods, the giants, and Jörmungandr the Midgard serpent, who’ll wrap himself around our world and crush it.”
Kera grabbed the trash can.
“What?” Vig asked her over the heaving. “What did I say?”
His parishioners thought he was being foolish. Coming back here. But he had to know the truth. He had to know what he was dealing with.
He made his way onto the property and kept to the bushes, moving slowly and carefully. It took him ages.
Women sat out in the backyard at tables, talking and laughing. Enjoying themselves while music played. Some danced with each other. Some drank beer or hard liquor poured straight from the bottle.
At a rehab center?
And above them all were crows. Hundreds of them, in the trees. Watching over them.
That was enough for Braddock. He needed to rescue his wife from this. He needed to bring her back safely into the fold and away from these whores.
But before he could move, a large pit bull ran over to the bushes that grew around the house itself and began digging. After a few minutes, she grabbed hold of something and began to pull. Before long, she pulled out a leg bone.
A leg bone still attached to something that was once human.
He knew who it was. One of his people. The one who’d disappeared while Jacinda’s mother was here. Braddock knew this even though there was no more flesh or skin on the bones.
Placing her front paw against a hip bone, the dog pulled and pulled, head dramatically twisting from side to side, growling as she tried to separate the leg from the rest of the skeleton.
One of the women came over after hearing the noise.
“Brodie? What are you doing, girl?” The woman gasped and Braddock felt a tiny bit of hope. This woman would raise the alarm, wouldn’t she? Understand that evil was here.
But that hope was quickly squashed when she told the dog, “No, Brodie. You can’t play with that. Bad girl! If your momma sees this, she’s going to lose her mind.” The woman crouched beside the dog. “Remember? We can’t tell your momma what you and the birds did. We can’t tell anybody. Right, Brodie? Right?”
The dog seemed to understand her, which was disturbing enough. But then it lowered its top half to the ground, big pit bull ass in the air.
“Brodie Hawaii, don’t you dare—”
The dog took off, dragging most of the skeleton with it. The other women saw and screamed. Not in horror, though. There was no horror. Instead, laughing, they chased after the dog. Laughing and chastising all at the same time.
“Brodie Hawaii, you bring that back here!”
“Brodie, stop! Your mom is going to flip out!”
“Brodie! You represent all pit bulls!”
A redhead caught hold of the skeleton’s arm. A few of the other women grabbed other parts and that’s when the tugging began. The dog dragged the women one way, then another.
“Dammit, Brodie! Give it! Give it now!”
The dog yanked and the skeleton broke apart, but the dog still had the leg bone, hip, and the rib cage. And it trotted around the yard, tossing its head and what was left of the remains in its mouth from side to side.
Disgusted and horrified, Braddock fell back, but he caught himself with his arms. He was still in the bushes, but one of the black birds in the trees looked over. Its head turned to the side, twitched. It saw him . . . and it let out a squawk that the other black birds followed.
Braddock took off running.
Birds slammed into him, pecking at him, tearing at his clothes, his skin, going for his eyes. He swatted at them and kept running until he saw the van.
His men threw the door open and screamed, “Get in!”
Braddock dove headfirst into the vehicle, the door closing shut behind him as it took off. A few of the birds were still attached to him but he pulled them off and crushed them against the van floor or in his hands until there were none left.
When he got his breath back, he looked at the men with him. He knew now there was no saving his ex-wife. She was lost to him and his congregation, which left only one option open to him.
“They all die,” he told his men. “Every last one of them.”
Erin and the others ran down to the end of their driveway, but the van had already turned the corner.
“Follow them!” she called out to the birds circling above. They flew off and Erin glanced down at the arm bone she had in her hand.
“You want to track him down tonight and kill him?” Alessandra asked.
“We can’t.”
“But he saw.”
“Saw what? A mass of birds attacking him? A skeleton that in about five minutes will no longer exist? Our pure evil? Do you really think cops will take a known crazy cult leader seriously?”
“He may not go to the cops,” Annalisa suggested, “but he’ll be back.”
“We’ll deal with him then.”
Erin turned back to the house and let out a sigh. “Brodie Hawaii, you get back here with that leg! Damn dog.”