Jamie Grimm had agreed with the test results, claiming she’d been in her condo making love with her fiancé all night, just grateful to have him back in their new home.
If she thought about how the group of freaks had managed that she’d probably go insane. How in fuck was she supposed to explain to her boss that good old Danny-boy actually was Oliver Grimm, aka Odin?
Yeah. Pension plan, meet shredder. That was if she was lucky. If she was unlucky they’d desk her ass and psych her out of her detective’s shield. Either way she’d never work in law enforcement again.
So the lunatics were safe. For now.
She tried to focus on the window behind her boss. Rain poured down, darkening the sky. She couldn’t help but wonder if Kir was pissed off, or if this was a natural storm. And then she saw them. They’d haunted her dreams. Stunning silver eyes that seemed to be everywhere she went.
Niklas DeWitt, aka Heimdall. Gee, I sure know how to pick ’em. She dreamt of him nightly. When she was awake she would swear she saw him around corners, or in the mirror behind…her…
She whipped around, but he wasn’t there. Just the reflection of those eyes in the window.
“Mancinelli. Am I boring you?”
Yup, supernatural stalker alert. She shook her head. “No, sir.”
“Good. Then I expect you to…”
She did her best to pay attention to what her boss was saying, right up until DeWitt winked at her.
Then she had to bite back the screams.
Grimm shrieked at the top of his lungs. Again they’d eluded him, but damn it, this time it was his own fault. He’d allowed his temper to get the better of him, and so allowed them to get the better of him.
No more. Rina stood behind him, her blonde hair whipping in the wind, watching over him. Guarding his back. In her hand was a deadly combination of rifle and bayonet.
The bayonet she’d crafted was of mistletoe.
He panted, his fury finally fading. He looked around at the carnage he’d wrought. Ice, an inch thick, covered every surface visible in the park.
In his stupidity he’d allowed them to know that Gungnir couldn’t hurt him. Now they’d be on the hunt for something that could.
He’d be ready for them.
“They’re going to go for Fenris.”
He turned, staring at his lover. “Fenris?” He thought of the prophecy. “Fuck.” He headed back toward the car, pleased beyond measure when she stepped beside and slightly behind him, the gun cradled professionally in her arms. He climbed in, watching as she got straight into the passenger side. She knew he always preferred to drive, even when his life was endangered.
“My love, how would you like a trip to Norway?”
She held up her cell phone. “Sleipnir is ready, our passports in order. We have just enough time to pack.”
I think I might actually love this woman. “Remind me to thank you properly somewhere over Edinburgh.”
Rina grinned and blew him a kiss.
Epilogue
Jeff was ready to collapse. It had taken them days to get here. He was tired, filthy and desperately in need of a caramel mocha frappuccino.
If the two lovebirds didn’t stop playing snuggle-bunny in front of him he was going to puke.
But damn it, they were here. In Norway, land of his ancestors, freeing a creature of myth and legend he prayed would kill his grandfather before he could hurt anyone else in Jeff’s family ever again.
According to Travis, Old Man Grimm was right on their tails, no pun intended. The only thing that had saved them from facing him yet had been the necklaces Logan had given them. They’d masked their presence from his insane grandfather. Whatever else Logan had done to delay the Old Man’s progress Jeff didn’t want to know. Let his brother-in-law play around with the woo-woo stuff. Jeff was a lot more straight-forward.
He just wanted to kill the bastard and end this nightmare.
They’d found the cave where the wolf was bound, freed him, and now… now he was practically humping Jeff’s leg. In fact, the only one of the three of them he’d allowed near him was Jeff. Jeff had pulled the sword from the wolf’s jaws, muttering quietly the whole while about snot and drool, but damn if the whimpers the creature had issued at the sound of his voice hadn’t touched his heart.
Jeff watched as the wolf — Fenris, let’s be honest here—growled at Travis. Blood still dripped from its jaws where the sword had been.
Travis, his eyes wide, pushed Jamie behind him. “Could you repeat exactly what you said to him?”
Jeff tried to move around Fenris to get back to Travis and his sister. The wolf responded by backing into him, pushing him further into the cave and away from Travis. “Jeg er din forlovede , behage spiser ikke meg. Og spiser ikke Tyr , den ville ergre din ny moder.”
Travis coughed back a laugh. “I thought you spoke some Norwegian.”
“Bits and pieces only.” His eyes narrowed. He knew the word for mother, moder, and eat me, spiser meg. What else had he said? “What did my dickhead brother-in-law teach me to say?”
“Roughly? I’m your mate, please don’t eat me. And don’t eat Tyr, it will piss off your new mother.”
Jeff blinked as Fenris rubbed against his thigh, nearly knocking him on his ass. The wolf’s fur was matted with dirt, blood and debris, and he smelled to high heaven. Now, damn it, so did his jeans. Jeff gritted his teeth and prayed his fear and anger didn’t show. “Remind me to thank him when I get home.”
Wait.
“New mother?” Jeff threw back his head and laughed. Jordan was going to have a field day with that.
“Never mind. I won’t have to do a thing.”
It was great. Right up until the longest, wettest dog tongue he’d ever had the displeasure to see swiped a long wet line up his cheek.
Blech. Why oh why does this shit keep happening to me? He lifted his shirt to wipe away the slime.
“Meget pen.” A rough hand petted his stomach.
Jeff jerked back and pulled his shirt down. Before him, crouched on his haunches, was a hot, naked, extremely dirty and smelly man. “Travis? What did he just say?”
“That you’re very pretty.”
Oh. Shit. What had Logan gotten him into?
That man stood and grabbed Jeff’s hand. Dark, feral brown eyes bore into him. “Mine.”
Jeff gulped. Goodbye Dysfunction Junction. You will be sorely missed.
About the Author
Dana Marie Bell wrote her first short story when she was thirteen years old. She attended the High School for Creative and Performing Arts for creative writing, where freedom of expression was the order of the day. When her parents moved out of the city and placed her in a Catholic high school for her senior year, she tried desperately to get away, but the nuns held fast, and she graduated with honors despite herself.
Dana has lived primarily in the Northeast (Pennsylvania, New Jersey and Delaware, to be precise), with a brief stint on the US Virgin Island of St. Croix. She lives with her soul mate and husband Dusty, their two maniacal children, an evil, ice-cream stealing cat and a bull terrier that thinks it’s a Pekinese.
You can learn more about Dana at: www.danamariebell.com