The Køjer Devils inched closer to Heimdall, Freya, and Thrym. Several of the creatures had tested the magick of the protective circle and had lost claws and entire limbs as a result. But Heimdall felt the invisible shield losing its strength, and he was pretty sure the Køjer Devils could feel it, too.

  Thrym took a deep breath. “And now the mists?”

  “That’s the idea,” Heimdall sighed. “Any time now!” Heimdall shouted over the hissing thrum of the surrounding devils.

  “I’m working on it!” came Saga’s frustrated reply.

  “We are standing by, brother!” Thor shouted out from behind the nets.

  Heimdall really hoped they wouldn’t have to depend on Plan B. Another Køjer Devil slashed a taloned hand at Heimdall’s midsection and lost its arm in a smoking blur that left a dark stain on the floor.

  Thrym inched closer to Freya. “When this shield fails, move behind me, my lady. I will protect you as long as I can.”

  Freya gave him a gentle shove to move him back into position. “I think I’ll be all right.” She studied the downward tick of his mouth. “But thanks, anyway.”

  The air in the Bath section shifted. Beneath the humid, fetid stench of so many Køjer Devils huffing at them, a current of cooler air stirred along the floor and filled the protective circle.

  “Finally!” Heimdall sighed as a thick, sparkling mist snaked from the outer walls of the room, snagging in the devils’ clawed toes and climbing up their legs like fast-growing vines.

  The devils farthest from the circle were the first to fall. Their shrieking escalated to a paint-peeling volume and pitch and within seconds, all the mirrors lining one display wall exploded outward, sending shards of glass slicing through the outer ring of devils.

  “I think it’s working!” Freya shouted over the creatures’ shrill cries as she covered her ears with her hands.

  Heimdall watched. The Køjer Devils fell to the floor in twos and threes. They writhed and screamed in sickly pain as they sliced at their own skin with their sharp talons. Dark scales flew through the air and ricocheted off the protective shield encircling Heimdall, Freya, and Thrym.

  “Impressive,” Thrym commented with raised eyebrows. “Your work is most effective.”

  “I had help,” Freya replied.

  Fully half of the Køjer Devils had fallen. They thrashed on the floor before disintegrating in thick clouds of black smoke and being absorbed by the silver-colored mist.

  “That’s a neat trick.” Heimdall nodded toward one of the devils as its body disappeared into the mist.

  “You like that?” Freya replied. “Should make for easier cleanup.”

  Heimdall was about to respond with a snide, clumsy remark when he got hit in the face by a Køjer Devil scale.

  “The shield is giving way!” He crouched low, ready to go hand-to-claw with the remaining Køjer Devils.

  “What is the likelihood that this mist is also poisonous to us?” Thrym nodded toward a clump of writhing lizards.

  “That’s the chance we take.” Freya clenched uncapped markers in each hand.

  One of the afflicted devils rose from the floor and staggered toward the circle. Its scaly skin hung in bloody ribbons from its torso and legs where the creature had clawed at itself in reaction to the toxic mist.

  Heimdall took a few steps back and collided with Thrym. Thrym laid a hand on Heimdall’s shoulder. “I am behind you, just as surely as you support me.”

  “Thanks,” Heimdall replied with a lack of enthusiasm.

  In a flash of bluish light, the protective shield fell.

  Thrym wrinkled his nose. “What in the Nine Realms is that horrendous stench?”

  Freya crept forward a few inches to stand on the circle’s perimeter. “My guess? Incinerated devil.” She inhaled quickly and paused, gauging the air. She coughed on the exhale and cleared her throat. “We’re good.”

  “Good to know.” Heimdall lunged forward and drove the tip of one of his markers into the exposed wound of the half-dead Køjer Devil looming before him. The creature collapsed in on itself and puffed outward in a cloud of dark smoke. It left a sticky, black stain on the floor as the mists retreated back to the nets lining the walls.

  “A little help in here?” Heimdall called out as he advanced on the last seven devils.

  The netting separating the battlefield from Textiles & Rugs pulled aside, and Thor stormed into the Bath department followed closely by Saga and Valthrudnir. Thiassen brought up the rear, holding one arm close to his body but ready to fight with a bright orange marker in his fist.

  The Køjer Devils stumbled through the room in a daze, knocking over the few display racks that remained upright, and getting tangled in shower curtains and ensnared by wire mesh trash cans. Calling for each other in shrill, unintelligible syllables, they formed a loose cluster on one side of the room. They shrieked in pain and surprise when they brushed up against one another. Heimdall almost felt sorry for them.

  Thor stopped short of the disorganized lizard scrum. “They’re blind,” he announced with a mixture of pleasure and frustration. This wouldn’t be nearly as much fun as doing battle with an enemy in peak form.

  “It’s the mists,” Freya said as the last of the sparkling fog retreated. “We wove in a spell to raise their body temperature, to ignite the sulfur in their blood. They’re literally burning up from the inside out.”

  Thor thought for a moment. “How’d you figure out about the sulfur?”

  “With their penchant for warm spaces and fossil fuels . . .” Freya shrugged. “Lucky guess.”

  “Lucky for us.” Saga stopped at Thor’s elbow.

  Thor looked over to Heimdall. “You okay?”

  “Minor damage.” Heimdall gestured toward the disoriented devils. “Now we just need to—”

  One of the devils lurched out of the writhing pack, slashing blindly. It slipped on a cylindrical toothbrush holder and went careening toward Freya, its outstretched arms flailing and slicing through the air.

  Freya lifted her markers in both hands and prepared for impact, but Thrym stepped in front of her and pushed her back.

  “I will slay this beast for you, gentle one,” Thrym called over his shoulder. The creature staggered forward and Thrym stopped one taloned arm from slashing through his neck, but one of the creature’s feet swung upward and caught him in the chest.

  “No!” Freya shouted.

  “It is no matter,” Thrym replied in a strangled voice. He reached forward and almost casually drew the Rune Witch’s destructive bindrune on the devil’s midsection. The creature pulled back in agony and tore at its chest with its own claws, trying to scrape away the burning ink. Within seconds, the Køjer Devil was so much smoke and soot.

  Thrym dropped to his knees and clutched at the puncture in his solar plexus. Freya sank to the floor in front of him and pushed his hands out of the way. “You’ve got to let me see it!”

  “It is but a scratch, my love.” He smiled.

  Freya scowled back at him. “You need to stop this nonsense right now. I am not your love or your darling or your lady. For the moment, I am your nurse. So just hold still and shut up.”

  “As you wish,” Thrym responded, grinning up at the ceiling.

  Freya sighed. "You're really an idiot, you know that?"

  Thrym kept staring at the ceiling, his cheeks beginning to flush and his dreaming eyes swimming.

  “Right then,” Thor announced to no one in particular. “Let’s clean up this mess.”

  Thor fought his instinct to toy with the devils, to try to get them to put up some kind of a fight. They still hissed and screamed and lashed out with their sharp talons, and Thor had to remind himself that even if they were blind and practically disintegrating before his eyes, the Køjer Devils still had poisoned claws. He didn’t care to test the protection of Sally’s bindrunes for himself.

  He organized Heimdall, Saga, and Valthrudnir into a circle around the surviving lizards and went about cutting the creatures down while Freya ministered to Thrym and Thiassen.

  The last devil collapsed into dust just as Maggie got tangled in the perimeter nets.

  “Hey!” she called as she tried to extricate herself. “I’m here! I’m here to help!”

  The others watched as she struggled and eventually yanked the nets down around her. “I’ll be right there!” She tore a hole in the mesh near her head and climbed out that way. Magick markers in hand, she strode confidently into the room and stood in front of Thor.

  “I’m ready to fight.” She lifted her chin and glanced at Heimdall. “I’m not afraid.”

  “Very good.” Thor clapped a strong hand on her shoulder, knocking her only partially off-balance. “We’ll keep that in mind for the next battle.”

  Maggie frowned up at him, then looked around the room. The floor was spotted with dark oil slicks. Not a single display shelf was left intact, and the entire room was littered with broken metal, ragged strips of fabric, fractured ceramics, and various sweet-smelling guest soaps. Shattered glass covered everything.

  Maggie’s shoulders sank. “I missed it.”

  Thor chuckled. “But you tried. I respect that.”

  “Even though you were specifically instructed to stay out,” Heimdall grumbled. “Geirrod is one useless watch-giant.”

  “He’s dead.” Freyr entered the room with Sally and Loki on his heels. “So is Iduna.”

  Thrym sighed heavily and hung his head. “This battle has cost us.”

  Maggie walked across to Thrym and Thiassen on the floor and knelt beside Freya. “Let me help.”

  Thrym’s eyes grew wide at the prospect of being doctored by a lowly human, but Freya gave him a hard look and he surrendered. Maggie pulled back the shredded fabric of his tunic to examine his wounds.

  “Get used to it, Thrym,” Freyr said with an insolent edge. “We’ve suffered losses today, but the survivors all owe their skin to one particular human.”

  Freyr reached out to rest his hand on Sally’s shoulder, but she moved away from him.

  He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Sally, listen, about before.”

  Sally shook her head and stepped back. “No, it’s okay.”

  “Sally. I’m sorry.”

  “Forget it.” She turned her back on him and headed toward Freya. As she stepped across the floor, avoiding the greasy stains as much as possible, she noticed a silver mist beginning to snake across the linoleum.

  “Umm, do I need to be worried about this?” She pointed to the floor.

  Freya jumped to her feet. The sparkling silver mists were returning, flowing across the floor from the nets lining the walls and entrances.

  Thor shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. “Don’t you have some kind of control over this?”

  Freya shook her head, her eyes wide. “This shouldn’t be happening.” She looked at Freyr. “You said Iduna died?”

  “Yeah.” Freyr paused a beat, then added, “I think Maggie has something to tell you about that.”

  Freya glanced down and followed the path of the mists across the floor. They swirled together into a slowly turning vortex, centered on the spot where Maggie knelt in front of Thrym.

  “Well,” Freya said with a bemused smile. "Will you look at that."

  Thor took a few steps closer to see what the fuss was about. But with the floor obscured by the mists, his boot heel skidded on one of the dark slicks of incinerated Køjer Devil. His feet slipped out from under him, and he landed on his backside with a loud yelp.

  Red-faced and growling his displeasure, Thor checked the soles of his boots. They were covered in dark goo. “I’m going to have to burn these.”

  Sally stood ankle deep in the swirling mists and watched Freya and Maggie work on Thrym's and Thiassen's battle wounds. She touched the colored marker in her jeans pocket and wondered if her bindrunes would have made a difference for Geirrod and Iduna, or if her markings would have prevented Thrym and Thiassen from getting hurt.

  But Iduna and the Frost Giants had refused her protective sigils. As strong as her magick had proven these past days, Sally couldn't force it on anyone.

  And now it looked like Maggie might be joining the ranks of Odin’s Lodge. Sally decided that she didn't envy her. It was a complicated task trying to navigate the Norse pantheon as a human ally, but Sally figured Maggie's whole world was about to change. Permanently.

  I'll stick to being the Rune Witch, Sally thought, then the back of her neck prickled with the memory of Freyr's words on the roof. Opal was right—and maybe so was Managarm, for that matter. Sally was a part of Odin's Lodge, but she was not of his family or kin. Whatever magickal mantle rested on her shoulders by fate or tradition, she was just a girl—a girl who defied the gods and flew to Norway to tangle with Frost Giants and battle prehistoric tyrannosaurus men with enchanted art supplies. But still just a girl.

  Sally smiled.

  20

  Maggie stood at the head of the bier and exhaled as the last ember of the funeral pyre faded to ash. She closed her eyes and raised her arms to the sky.

  “Iduna, Goddess of the Sacred Grove,” Maggie sang in solemn tones. “We commend your body to the trees and the soil, and your spirit to the Halls of Valhalla.”

  “Valhalla,” the others echoed back to her.

  Maggie looked down at the gray figure lying on the blackened wood before her. Undisturbed, the ash still held the delicate features of Iduna’s face and the folds of her gown.

  Maggie avoided making eye contact with the Frost Giants, the Rune Witch, Heimdall, and his kin surrounding the cooling pyre. Somewhere on the periphery of her awareness, she heard the crowding of mundane thoughts—wondering what day it was, stressing about hotel reservations and her credit card balance, freaking out about being suddenly thrust into a divine role for which she'd had no preparation. They buzzed like gnats around her head. She took a breath and felt the tingling mantle of knowledge and power settle over her again.

  Maggie turned her face to the sky. “Stags of the Four Winds. Dáinn. Dvalinn. Duneyrr. Duraprór. I call on you to lift up the dusty remains of this servant of the Cosmos, friend of the Yggdrasil, beloved of Bragi.”

  She felt a breeze pick up and spiral around her, gentle at first but quickly gaining strength. “Scatter this sacred ash so that it might nourish and restore the grove she loved. I call on the Valkyries. Perform your sacred duty and escort this worthy soul to the feast tables of the dead.”

  Even if the Valkyries are technically now an American war veterans biker gang. Maggie almost smiled, then instinctively knew deep in her bones that there were more of Odin's messengers than those who rode motorcycles, waiting to awaken to their duty to ferry the honored dead to their eternal reward.

  As Maggie’s hair whipped around her shoulders, the burnt bier and figure of ash disintegrated together onto the whirlwind that lifted up the cold remains of the pyre and scattered them to every corner of Iduna’s Grove.

  In moments, Iduna’s ashes were gone and the ritual was complete.

  “Well, that’s that.” Maggie rested her hands on her hips, suddenly self-conscious in her blue jeans and fair isle sweater. Was she expected to adopt the flowing robes that Iduna preferred? Or would her everyday clothes be acceptable?

  Those robes probably were Iduna’s everyday clothes, when she first became immortal. A chill ran down Maggie’s spine.

  Thrym was the first to approach, head bowed even as he towered over her. “You did well. Thank you for including us in this rite.” He nodded toward Valthrudnir and Thiassen, still holding his healing arm close to his body.

  “If you want, I can do something for Geirrod, too,” Maggie replied.

  “That is kind, but no,” Thrym said gruffly. “Our brother will be honored in our own ways.”

  Maggie nodded as he moved on. She waited for the others to approach, but they remained on the opposite side of the clearing, talking among themselves and looking up at the sky. She’d at least expected Freya or Heimdall to come say something to her, but they’d all kept a respectful distance since the battle with the Køjer Devils at IKEA the day before.

  Rolling her shoulders back, Maggie lifted her chin and started toward the others. As soon as she was within a few paces, they stopped talking and turned to face her.

  Maggie stood before them, waiting.

  Sally broke the silence. “I liked what you said. It was nice.”

  “Thanks,” Maggie replied with a tense smile, then she shrugged. “This whole thing is going to take some getting used to.”

  Sally huffed. “Tell me about it.”

  Maggie caught Heimdall’s eye and turned to speak to him, but Thor stepped in front of her.

  “Maggie.” Head bowed, the lumbering god of thunder made eye contact only briefly, then looked at her feet. “I don’t know the protocol. That’s more Frigga’s thing.” He reached for her hand and took it gently in his own. “Welcome to the Lodge.”

  “Thank you,” Maggie sighed in relief. Before she could start a proper conversation, Thor released her hand and stepped away.

  “I don’t get it,” Maggie mumbled.

  “It will take time.” Freya appeared at Maggie’s side. She lifted her hand to touch Maggie’s shoulder, but hesitated.

  Maggie exhaled sharply. “Why is everyone so afraid of me? Am I really so different all of a sudden?”

  At this outburst the others dispersed, giving Maggie a wide berth.

  “I don’t know that it’s fear,” said Freya, who hadn’t budged. “It’s simply been a while since this kind of thing last happened. Since we added someone new.”

  “Okay.” Maggie pushed up the long sleeves of her sweater. The rune markings on her arms had begun to fade, thanks to an hour-long soak in a hot bath and copious amounts of lavender salt scrub. “But it’s not like you guys don’t already know me.”

  Freya laughed lightly. “Maggie, you didn’t step into just any role here.”

  Maggie looked into Freya’s eyes and frowned. “Iduna was a cranky old bat. That’s the impression I got in the short time I knew her.”