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  Neither of us spoke until the nurse was gone and my door had been closed then Keira said, “The hospital knows who you are and who attacked you. A wolf and lion stalking the streets of Phoenix aren’t going to go unnoticed anyway.”

  The painkiller must have already kicked in because I sighed and asked her, “Are you ever going to talk to me about us? You have to know I’m crazy about you. Are you telling everyone we’ll never happen because I slept with Freyja?”

  “Gavyn—” she tried, but her tone already told me she was going to avoid this conversation again so I interrupted her.

  “I know you have feelings for me, too. And maybe you hate that you feel that way, but don’t I deserve an explanation?” I wasn’t actually sure I did, but if it worked, I’d roll with it.

  Keira shook her head and looked out the window again. “It’s so complicated, Gavyn.”

  “How?” I demanded. “It would be complicated if we knew I was going to live because that’s one hell of a long-distance relationship, but—”

  “But maybe I don’t want you to die, okay?” she cried.

  I thought about telling her, “Well, good, that makes two of us,” but she seemed pretty upset already, so I decided not to intentionally make it worse. Instead, I just asked her where the CIA was sending us, and I wiggled my fingers on my left hand just to make sure it was really still attached.

  “The gods have spread out, but the CIA seems pretty sure at least two of them are still in Louisiana.”

  I groaned and sighed at the same time, which made an odd, slightly erotic sound. Judging by Keira’s reaction, she agreed with me. “Everybody’s expecting the Sumerians to leave New Orleans,” she said. “It actually wouldn’t be a terrible idea for them to stay and just relocate buildings, especially if they’re well set up there.”

  And since the fake morphine was clearly kicking in, I blurted out, “You should totally dress up as Little Red Riding Hood for me.”

  Not surprisingly, that earned me a well-deserved sigh and an exasperated, “Gavyn… what?”

  “You know, I’m like the huntsman. I slayed the wolf.” But then, because the drugs were clearly affecting my already impaired ability to think, I repeated the world “slayed” several times before asking, “Is that even a word?”

  Keira laughed and kissed my forehead, which would have surprised me more if I hadn’t been a little high from the painkiller. “I’m going to the cafeteria, but I’ll be back soon. Tyr is right outside if you need anything.”

  “Yeah,” I told her, so naturally, she stopped as if I were about to request something monumentally important. “Ask him if ‘slayed’ is a word.”

  “Get some rest,” she ordered, and even though that’s all I’d been doing for the past twenty-four hours, I drifted into darkness anyway.

  When I awoke again, I had an entire supernatural squad of cheerleaders in the room with me. Or just Keira, Tyr, and Yngvarr, but since it makes me seem way cooler and more popular, I’m going with an entire squad. Anyway, Yngvarr told me the doctor was ready to release me, which I suspected was at least partly due to their concerns the lion would return in an attempt to finish me off, and Keira held up a white paper bag with a blue caduceus on it. “Got painkillers to go,” she said.

  I was about to tell her that was my kind of Happy Meal when I realized I’d just given a name to the serpent staff on the bag, and I was certain I shouldn’t have known that. And not only did I have a name for the staff, but I knew it belonged to Hermes and really didn’t belong on medical supplies but had gotten mixed up with the Staff of Asclepius.

  “Whoa,” I exclaimed, sitting up and scaring the hell out of my cheerleading squad. “Why do I know anything about a caduceus and Hermes and Asclepius? What did y’all do to me while I was out?”

  “Um… brain damage?” Tyr guessed.

  “Not brain damage,” Keira said. “Either you know a lot more about mythology than you thought or the more Havard’s memories are triggered, the more you’ll be able to draw on everything he knew as well.”

  “We all know it’s not because I ever learned a ton of mythology on my own,” I countered.

  I felt a little slighted when they all nodded in agreement.

  “This is why I kept telling you in the practice field that sword fighting is in your DNA,” Keira added. “It’s all there, like a reflex. Did it ever occur to you that when you dream about Havard, he’s not even speaking English?”

  I waved her off because of course he was speaking English. It was the only language I knew. But she reminded me that the Valkyries in Valhalla all spoke an ancient, dead language and I’d understood them. And I may or may not have freaked out a little.

  “Is this really any more disturbing than reliving Havard’s memories?” Tyr asked.

  “Yeah,” I shot back. “I might lose my village idiot title if I come across as… knowledgeable.”

  Keira tossed a large plastic bag at me and told me to get dressed, so of course, I asked for her help. And, of course, she rolled her eyes and said she’d send in Freyja. So clearly, she was over that whole thing.

  Somewhere over Texas on the flight back to New Orleans, I got Tyr to switch seats with me so I could talk to Keira without her walking out on me. I mean, she could try, but I was pretty sure even Valkyries couldn’t survive that fall. “Two questions,” I said as soon as I sat down.

  “You get one,” she replied, like that would actually stop me.

  “First, do you get Paranormal Frequent Flyer Miles?”

  Keira lowered her magazine and blinked at me, so I just shrugged. “What’s your second question, Gavyn?”

  “Is that a no on the Paranormal Frequent Flyer Miles then?”

  “Gavyn,” she warned.

  “Fine, but you should really look into those. I’ll be dead soon, but you can totally hit up Elysium—”

  “Gavyn,” she groaned.

  “Second question. Why are you telling everyone about your vow to never be with me?”

  It might have just been my imagination, but I thought she paled. “Who said that?”

  I didn’t want to bring up Freyja right now, but I also didn’t want to lie. “Does it matter?” I said instead. “It’s obviously true. It’s one thing to feel that way, but why are you—”

  “Freyja,” she interrupted, turning away from me so she could glare at the back of the seat in front of us. I sensed she was going to ignore me yet again so I started this big long speech I had prepared—or was just making up on the spot—about how my one screw-up didn’t justify her treating me like this, but she shook her head and grabbed my hand, releasing it just as quickly. “The seer had a prophecy for me too, Gavyn. And you were a part of it. I’m trying to protect you.”

  Tyr, who was obviously eavesdropping, grunted in response so Keira flashed him an admittedly terrifying “keep your mouth shut” scowl. I mean, not as terrifying as Agnes’s scowls, but terrifying enough that Tyr kept his mouth shut. She glanced at me one last time before returning her attention to her magazine, although she seemed to have lost interest in it. “I don’t want you to hate me, Gavyn. But we just can’t work out. I’m sorry.”

  Tyr sighed this time, so Keira reached across me to poke him in the ribs, and he let out an exaggerated “oompf” and pretended to be mortally wounded for good measure. I’m pretty sure I taught him that.

  “Still doesn’t explain why you’re going around publicly vowing that you and I are never gonna happen,” I pointed out.

  “I’m not,” she insisted. “Shortly after receiving my prophecy, I vowed not to date you, hoping this would change the course of events. That’s all. I promise.”

  That didn’t make it any easier to accept, and she clearly had no intention of sharing her prophecy with me, but Yngvarr decided to be super helpful at that exact moment by butting in with, “If you have no intention of ever dating him, then maybe stop being such an ass about him hooking up with Freyja.”

  Keira’s cheeks flushed, and Tyr and I j
ust stared at Yngvarr like he’d reached across the aisle and slapped her. If the roles had been reversed, I would have hated any guy she’d hooked up with, so it’s not like I’d ever blamed her for reacting the way she had. But Yngvarr had put it out there, and Keira was already whispering, “Okay. He’s right. I’m sorry, Gavyn,” before I could tell her not to worry about it, that I probably would’ve handled it much worse. Actually, there’s no “probably” here… I definitely would’ve handled it much worse.

  We all fell into an awkward silence for most of the remaining flight. New Orleans was really just getting back to normal after the Sumerians abducted thousands of people and magically immobilized them, and there we were, riding back into the city to cause havoc once again. As soon as the plane landed, we each dug out our phones to turn them back on, and I was immediately greeted with thirteen missed calls and voicemails, all of them from Frey. I glanced at Keira’s screen and noticed Agnes had become her personal stalker.

  “How about we not listen and pretend like we never got their messages?” I suggested.

  “And if there’s an ambush in the city and these messages could have saved our lives?” Tyr retorted.

  “Then fire your seers for not prophesying about it and warning us not to be dumbasses,” I shot back.

  “Or,” Yngvarr countered, “we could not be, you know… dumbasses.”

  “Easy for you to say,” I mumbled, but I pressed the voicemail icon anyway and listened to Frey’s messages. But Frey’s message had nothing to do with our presence in New Orleans, and everything to do with the Egyptians and their messed up ideas of vengeance. Keira, who’d been listening to her own messages, whispered, “Oh, my God,” and I just nodded because what else could I do?

  Anhur and Menhit, the lion deities, had attacked a group of tourists awaiting a bus that would bring them to the Grand Canyon—a dozen injured, three dead. They didn’t need to be in their human form for us to understand their message perfectly. This had been an act of revenge for Willy’s death. Tyr and Yngvarr cursed and suggested we return to Phoenix immediately, but what was the point? Wouldn’t our revenge just lead to the Egyptians retaliating again, hurting more innocent people, and causing a never-ending cycle of violence and death?

  “Gavyn’s right,” Keira said. “We need to be smart about this. Someone is supposed to be picking us up who most likely has ample experience with terrorists, and that’s exactly what these gods are now. Let’s defer to his judgment.”

  I expected a guy in a black suit and dark sunglasses with one of those white poster boards and our names scrawled across it… but I got a guy in blue jeans and a Metallica t-shirt scrolling on his phone and looking decidedly bored with his assignment. He obviously recognized me though, because as we made our way out of the airport, he just fell in line with us and started talking like he’d always been part of our entourage and was just returning from the bathroom.

  “Heard about Phoenix?” he asked.

  I slowed down to stare at the guy, and he shot me a strange look like I was the one completely out of place here. “Who the hell are you?” I demanded.

  “John. Can you keep walking now?”

  I crossed my arms and glanced at Tyr for a little assistance, but the bastard never even lowered his phone and kept tapping away at his Facebook status update. Yeah, gods used Facebook—who knew?

  “You’d better not be telling everyone we’re back in New Orleans,” I hissed at Tyr.

  “Nope,” he murmured but still didn’t look up from his phone. “Need help on this level of Gods of War.”

  I glanced at the screen of his phone, and he was totally serious. He’d also chosen himself as his avatar. “Okay, first of all, we kinda have a global crisis here so think you can give us a little attention? And secondly… dude, I love that game. What’s your screen name? I’ll add you.”

  Keira groaned and grabbed my arm, scolding us both like naughty children, so I grinned at her and asked, “Want to punish me?”

  But I regretted it as soon as she smiled back at me, a little too sweetly, and said, “Yes, actually. Agnes is waiting on us, and I know she’d be happy to spank you.”

  I grimaced and quickly apologized, but Yngvarr just had to remind me about his forgotten past by complaining, “Hey, if Badb’s going to spank anyone, it’s going to be me.”

  “Dude,” I complained back. “You’ve just rendered me permanently impotent.”

  “Are you really the gods that are supposed to save the world?” John asked.

  “No, just Gavyn really,” Tyr answered. “Either way, it’s not boding well for us.”

  John nodded, and I would have been more than a little insulted if it weren’t so true. “Come on,” he said. “Badb is waiting on us, and—”

  “Agnes,” I interrupted. “She goes by Agnes now.”

  John blinked at me then said, “From now on, you’re not allowed to talk. And—”

  So naturally, I laughed and told him, “Good luck with that.”

  He blinked at me again, so Tyr helpfully added, “We’ve found it’s usually better just to ignore him. He occasionally keeps talking anyway, but it’ll save your own sanity.”

  “Ninurta,” John sighed. “We’re pretty sure we’ve found him.”

  He squinted at me, but I feigned innocence. Truthfully, I was hoping he’d say “and” again so I could interrupt him then, but apparently, a person has to be pretty smart to get into the CIA, because he carefully avoided it. “We don’t think he’s in New Orleans anymore, so let’s hit the road, kids. We’re going to Baton Rouge.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Even before John told me where they thought Ninurta was hanging out these days, I had a horrible feeling I knew exactly where we’d find him. Apparently, stealing a god’s weapon made war personal, and Ninurta thought I needed to know how he felt about that. But when we arrived at our hotel in Baton Rouge, Agnes, who was hanging out in her room as the witch who tried to eat Hansel and Gretel, informed us that Ninurta had a whole host of demigods with him, too, so we were waiting on our own host of demigods to show up before confronting him.

  And, of course, I had to ask, “Exactly how many demigods are in a host?”

  “I think it can vary,” Yngvarr said smartly.

  “From what to what?” I pressed. “This is critical information.”

  He nodded just as smartly and lifted an eyebrow at Agnes, but I cringed a little when I thought it might be a little suggestive rather than the acceptable smartassive. Agnes waved one of her nine-thousand-year-old hands at us and said, “Two dozen. Give or take a dozen.”

  So I nodded smartly and said, “Seems legit.”

  “We could get in some archery practice while we wait,” Keira suggested.

  I groaned and shook my head. “I have a better idea. Let’s go back to Asgard and look for my sword.”

  “I’ll stay here with Agnes,” Tyr offered.

  “It might not even be in Asgard,” Keira argued. “We have no idea where Havard might have hidden it.”

  “Yeah, but Asgard seems like the most obvious place,” I said. “That’s where he lived. And if he really knew I was going to need it someday, he wouldn’t have made it impossible for me to find, right?”

  Yngvarr nodded and agreed with me, so Keira relented and asked Tyr to call her as soon as they were ready to confront Ninurta. As we returned to Asgard, another seemingly instantaneous trip, I finally said, “Okay, I give up. Where the hell are we? And don’t say Asgard.”

  Keira arched an eyebrow at me and asked, “Where do you want me to say then?”

  “I mean where is Asgard in relation to Earth? And where is the Otherworld? Can Agnes get there just as easily as you can get to Asgard? Can you travel from Asgard to the Otherworld like this? It’s all giving me a headache.”

  Yngvarr laughed and clapped me on the back. “The science of the supernatural will do that.”

  Even Keira smiled as she waved me on. She was obviously anxious to begin our search for
this sword, most likely so we could return to Agnes and Tyr in case they were caught off-guard by a surprise attack in a far less posh hotel than the one in Reykjavik, and really, if I was going to get caught off-guard by a surprise attack, I’d want it to be in a posh hotel. “The world of the gods is separated from Earth by what we call ‘the veil,’” she explained. “Once we’re in either world, we have to travel just like everyone else, so to get to the Otherworld, we’d have to go by horse and ship or, yeah, even a flying animal. All of the gods live here and can cross the veil between worlds, so I guess it’s kind of like a parallel universe?”

  I stopped short and gaped at her. “A parallel universe? Like Asgard is really on a planet that looks just like Earth but is inhabited by gods and flying mammals and shit?”

  “Basically,” she answered.

  “Great,” I sighed. “That means if Havard hid his sword outside of Asgard, we’ll never find it.”

  “Afraid so,” Keira said. “But the good news is that gods almost never venture into other gods’ territory. If it’s not in Asgard, it’s most likely on Earth somewhere.”

  “That really doesn’t narrow it down,” I muttered.

  “You’re back again?” Odin asked, stepping out of the shadows of a nearby palace.

  I jumped and twisted on my heels to face him, pointing an accusatory finger in his direction. “Don’t sneak up on demigods. We’re fragile, you know.”

  “Maybe mentally,” Yngvarr added helpfully.

  Keira snorted then told Odin, “We had some time, so we wanted to search for Havard’s sword.”

  “Ah,” Odin replied. “Well, if you find it, bring it to me before returning to Earth. If it’s the same sword as I think, I’d love to see it.”

  Yngvarr tensed and turned his back on the All-Father, who obviously noticed, and his eyes narrowed slightly at the insult. Keira promised Odin they’d bring the sword to him if we found it, which led to Yngvarr scoffing and walking away. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was supposed to be doing so after a few seconds of paralyzing indecision, I followed my friend, whom I’d loved like a brother since the moment I met him because his dead brother’s DNA had decided to flare up and become a pain in the ass.