A Vigil in the Mourning (Soulbound #4) - Hailey Turner Page 0,68
Frigg?”
“She is ensconced with the authorities today, as she was last night.” Thor stared at Patrick. “Your people best treat her well.”
“This isn’t my field office, but no one will find out what Frigg is so long as she keeps up the deception that she’s nothing more than human. You guys have been doing that for centuries. She’ll be fine. We have bigger things to worry about with Odin missing and Ethan in town,” Patrick replied.
“I thought that was the problem in general?” Hinon asked.
Patrick grimaced, listing a little against the bar as he rubbed at his face. “The nexus under Lake Michigan has been illegally accessed, and weather updates show a reactionary storm brewing. I thought it was you and Thor messing around, but what’s forming over the water is ugly. The storm is likely going to hit today, and weather witches in the field office say a white-out blizzard might occur.”
“That will make searching for the Allfather difficult, but not impossible,” a dark-skinned valkyrie said.
“For you. It’s a risk for my pack to be out in weather like that.”
“Eir will ride with you,” Brynhildr said.
“I wasn’t asking for an escort.”
“You’ll have one anyway.”
The coolness of the valkyrie’s tone had Jono pressing against Patrick’s back as he eyed her over Patrick’s head. “We have one of yours with us already.”
Brynhildr raised her glass to her lips, swallowing a mouthful of mead. “Loki’s get is not one I trust.”
Jono opened his mouth to reply, but his voice was stolen by Fenrir, the god gaining control. “This is not the story any of us need or want.”
Brynhildr slowly set her glass back down on the bar, staring at them. “Fenrir.”
“Odin’s least favored valkyrie.”
“I have a name. Use it.” Fenrir said nothing, and Brynhildr let go of her drink. “I have never trusted you. What’s to say this is not an attempt by you to kill the Allfather?”
“Because this is not our Ragnarök, and the future remains uncertain. I chose your side to keep our stories alive. The gods of hell would throw their support behind a lie that will deliver nothing but forgetfulness and death to immortals. That aids none of us.”
“Trickery works in such a manner.”
“He’s no trickster,” Patrick said.
“He was birthed by one.”
Jono fought for control of his body and mind, shaking his head to clear it once Fenrir receded into his soul once more. “You lot gave me to Patrick as a weapon. We’re tied together by the soulbond. That should be enough of a surety, because I would never betray him.”
Brynhildr studied him with those fathomless gray eyes of hers. “You might not. I wouldn’t put it past the wolf.”
“Such faith you have in my children,” a new voice said, the words echoing in the bar.
Thor punched the air in front of him, a sphere of ball lightning exploding around his fist that gave off so much heat Jono’s skin burned. The god pulled Mjölnir free, the great stone head of the hammer sucking up the lightning.
“Loki,” Thor growled. “Show yourself.”
The largest deer skull on the wall shifted on its nails before lifting away. The bone was the only solidly real bit of the ghostly skeleton that jumped to the floor, transparent hooves making no sound upon landing. Patrick moved to put himself between Jono and the construct, dagger held in one hand.
The valkyries moved like lightning to surround the construct. They’d come into the bar empty-handed, but now each of them carried a spear in their hands, the differences in their carvings minimal, the magic in the weapons impossible to miss. The skull head swung from side to side. If it could grin, Jono thought it would.
“You’ve thrown your lot in with the wrong side once again,” Brynhildr ground out.
“I see nothing wrong about our freedom to choose,” Loki’s disembodied voice said through the construct.
“Where is the Allfather?”
The ghostly deer danced on its feet, and the head was tossed back, the solid antlers nearly hitting a blown-out light fixture. “What makes you think I know?”
“Because you’re here to gloat. I’d sew your mouth shut if I thought it would do us any good.”
“I have needle and thread in my bag. Say the word,” Eir said, the spear in her hands not moving a millimeter.
Loki laughed in a way that made Jono’s bones hurt. Fenrir sank his claws into Jono’s soul but remained quiet. Jono didn’t know if it was out of fear or self-preservation.
Thor vaulted over the bar counter, landing with a heavy thud. He straightened