“Leif,” I called back to him, “where are the Valkyries in relation to Thor?”

“Eight o’clock, slightly behind him,” he replied. “V formation.”

“Väinämöinen, do your voice thing now!” I shouted.

Voice thing, I’d decided, was a technical term. There was no way I could make Thor hear me from this distance, but Väinämöinen had the pipes to do it. He could whip out that kantele of his and whisper creepy, flirtatious things to a Harajuku girl in Tokyo if he wanted. And even though I was probably thirty yards or so in front of him and to his right, he could make it seem like I was the one saying it. Thor had never heard me speak before, so he’d have no clue he was being duped. Leif and I had coached the Finn in precisely what to say in Old Norse to turn Thor murderous, and Väinämöinen recited it flawlessly, his voice booming across the Plain of Idavoll:

“Thor, Goatfucker, Violator of All Animals Great and Small, come and face your doom! Jörmungandr is a worm compared to me! I have slain Sleipnir and knocked Odin on his ass! I have slain the Norns, and now your fate is in my hands!”

Yep. That did it. My amulet turned frosty in a familiar way as the Valkyries once again tried to choose me for death. It’s funny how something like that will sweep away your moral uncertainties. Regardless of the wisdom of coming here at all, right now it was kill or be killed. A lightning bolt arced down from the sky and plunged through my body, and I felt no more than a tingle, thanks to the fulgurite Perun had given me. It was strung on my charm necklace now, resting on the back of my neck. I laughed, and so did Väinämöinen in the same loud voice. We wanted to make certain Thor knew his lightning was ineffectual. I was promptly struck seven more times by lightning, each as harmless as the first. We’d anticipated this too, and Väinämöinen spoke the appropriate line, choked with laughter:

“Stop it, Thor, that tickles!”

That was calculated to make him throw his hammer at me. Leif and I knew from experience how the male psyche works: If one weapon doesn’t work, switch to something else and try to shove it sideways through an orifice far too small to allow for comfortable entry.

The clouds above exploded with Thor’s rage, and I dimly heard Leif cry behind me, “Get ready, Atticus! Here it comes!” I could see a pale smudge against the clouds now that must be Thor in his chariot, but Leif could already see him in Hi-Def. “Now!” Leif shouted, telling me that Thor had thrown his hammer and that target lock was acquired.

That was my cue. I tossed Fragarach into the snow and leapt after it, triggering the charm that bound my form to a sea otter in the process. Mjöllnir’s targeting spell was dissolved in that instant, and simple physics held sway on the hammer now. A couple of cute otter hops brought me to my sword and I switched back to human.

“Come on, Leif!” I shouted as I picked Fragarach out of the snow.

The vampire was already out of the Finn’s seeming and paces away by the time I’d finished speaking. He had Moralltach gripped in his right hand and a savage grin on his face, fangs out.

“It’s hammer time,” I said, and then winced. “Sorry.”

“For what?”

Mjöllnir plowed into the snow in front of us before I could explain the brief popularity of MC Hammer.

Mjöllnir has a spell on it that Odin’s spear, Gungnir, does not: It’s enchanted to return to the hand of he who throws it. We were counting on it.

“Grab on!” Leif said, and I promptly dropped into the snow and wrapped my left arm around his right leg. Leif reached out with his left hand and grasped the handle of Mjöllnir, which, after contact with the earth, was already turning back in Thor’s direction. We were abruptly yanked skyward, wrenchingly so, and gaining speed. But we were headed toward a Grade A a**hole who had no idea that a crime he’d committed ages ago was finally coming back to haunt him with a thousand years’ violent interest.

Thor wasn’t going to be my business; I was after the Valkyries. Twice now they had tried to snuff me without so much as a verbal challenge, and I knew they’d do the same to the rest of the party if I gave them the chance. The problem was, there were twelve of them on flying horses and only one of me, and I was hitching a ride butt na**d on an airborne vampire’s leg, with nothing more than a sword. Soon the vampire would engage in battle with a thunder god, and I had to be gone by then.

My aura was the problem. If I laid hands on Mjöllnir, my amulet would most likely snuff the return spell and all other magic and leave us with a regular hammer. That would deny Thor a powerful weapon, but it would still leave us with twelve airborne Valkyries who would doom our entire party as soon as they spotted us. Curiously, though we could be shortly facing the entire host of Asgard, it was the Valkyries we feared the most, because they could choose the slain. Therefore, Gunnar had suggested this more risky stratagem during the previous night’s planning session with the frost giants. Thor’s death was the ultimate objective, but killing the Valkyries before they could pronounce sentence was the top priority.

I had a single glimpse of Thor before I had to direct my attention elsewhere. He was not the clean-shaven man Americans were used to seeing in comic books. A gnarly blond beard covered his jaw but did not extend down to his neck. There was no winged helmet, or any helmet at all. He had a thin strip of rawhide tied around his forehead to keep his long hair out of his eyes. He wore a mail shirt and a red tunic over it, belted with Megingjörd, which doubled his already prodigious strength. Járngreiper, his iron gloves, clutched the reins of his chariot as if he imagined they were our wee, stringy necks. His face was so red it practically matched his tunic; it was scrunched into constipated fury. He could not believe I was still alive and bringing a friend to the battle. As he watched us approach, he dropped the reins and hoisted a shield from the side of his chariot and secured it to his left arm.

My time was up. If Leif was to have a decent shot at Thor, he couldn’t have me hanging on to his leg. The Valkyries were riding behind Thor and below him to his right, as Leif had described. The steep ascent of Mjöllnir to Thor’s hand was bringing us to eye level with them. Once we reached that level, I tossed Fragarach high into the air and triggered my owl charm. I let go of Leif’s leg and shifted, flapping madly after my sword. Leif continued on toward Thor, and the Valkyries were now on course to fly underneath me. I saw gravity taking hold of Fragarach and slowing its ascent, allowing me to close the gap between us at the zenith of its journey. I switched back to human form, snatched the hilt out of the air, and fell na**d and screaming onto the Valkyries below.

The shouted warning from the trailing riders was too late to save the second Valkryie on the near side of the V. I sliced through her skull and spine with nothing more than the force of gravity, Fragarach sliding through armor and flesh like scissors through silk. The halves of her body sheared away to either side and showered me in blood. When my feet landed on the flanks of her horse, I knelt and launched myself back up, somersaulting backward and twisting to meet the next Valkyrie in the formation. Thinking it might protect her, she’d raised her shield, but she hadn’t had enough time to process what my sword could do. I slashed through both it and her torso, again springing off her horse’s back to meet the next opponent. This one was far smarter. She just got out of the way, yanking her mount up and to her left, past my reach. I began to fall, and I twisted around to assess the situation. Two down, ten to go, formation broken and pursuing me. Whoops, make that nine! A thunderous impact and a flash of steel across my vision showed me a Valkyrie hurtling to earth with a vampire latched on to her neck, her horse plunging fatally to earth with a broken wing. Somehow, Thor had tossed Leif away to let the shieldmaidens of Valhalla tangle with him. But they were no better equipped to deal with an ancient vampire than the god of thunder was.

Twisting again to face the approaching earth, I let go of Fragarach and shape-shifted once more to an owl, breaking my fall and landing safely next to my sword in the snow. Leif and his victim impacted sickeningly fifty yards away, and he immediately leapt defiantly to his feet and roared at the sky. Four Valkyries dove in his direction, five in mine. I shifted back to human form and retrieved Fragarach, drawing on my bear charm to quicken my speed and magnify my strength. The charm was nearing empty; all the shifting had taken its toll.

The first Valkyrie came at me in an airborne cavalry charge, thinking to ride me down, but I sprang out of the path of her blade to take on the one who would inevitably follow, because it’s always the two in the old one–two you have to worry about. The second one was bearing down hard and descending to snow level, counting on her horse to trample me to fleshy bits of mincemeat. Well, I had my Irish up, so I wasn’t going to dodge this one. I bellowed incoherently, charged directly at the steed, and led with my left shoulder. My magically boosted strength slammed into it at the base of its neck and stopped it cold, flinging the astonished Valkyrie ass over teakettle to land awkwardly in the snow. The horse staggered backward, flapping its wings to keep upright. My left shoulder popped painfully out of its socket, and my collarbone shattered on impact, but my right arm—the arm with Fragarach clutched at the end of it—still worked just fine. I turned and chopped off the Valkyrie’s arms before she could rise from the snow, Fragarach’s power to cut through armor again aiding the process. She shrieked and writhed as her lifeblood squirted from her shorn shoulders, and it was precisely the music I needed. Her companions would rush in, their need to render aid and pay me back giving them a sort of tunnel vision.

Four cursing Valkyries landed and dismounted, spreading themselves to surround me, swords drawn and shields raised. One of them pointed at my naughty bits and laughed.

“Hey, you know what?” I said. “It’s damn cold out here. And those wings on your helmet look f**king stupid.”

Leif, I saw, was beset by three more of them, having ripped out the throat of the fourth. He was probably in better shape than I; both his arms still worked. As my adversaries gathered themselves to charge me, I shouted in Russian, “Perun! Help now!” and prayed to Brighid that he heard me.

The Russian thunder god could not have revealed himself earlier and allowed the Valkyries to lay a death curse on him. I wasn’t sure this would work, because Thor might have given them some sort of protection, but it was worth a try. Now that all their attention was fully engaged by a Druid and a vampire, Perun could let loose. Seven thunderbolts lanced down from the sky to slay the remaining Valkyries, and as their smoking corpses fell limply into the snow, Väinämöinen laughed again, a creepy Vincent Price job that echoed under the ceiling of clouds. He banished his seeming and revealed our entire force to the pompous Æsir asspudding floating in the sky.

We gave Thor a few seconds to absorb it all. The Valkyries were all dead, wiped out in less than a minute by three members of a strange, unforetold force that numbered two dozen. And, by virtue of being the first on the scene, he now had no help whatsoever.

“Perun, fry his goats,” I called. Two more thunderbolts cracked in the sky, and Thor howled in rage and surprise as his ruined chariot plunged down onto the Plain of Idavoll, led by the charred black carcasses of his rams.

Chapter 26

“Last one there’s a rotten egg!” I said, and the boys were off. It was an interesting footrace. I think Leif would normally have won on a flat surface, but Gunnar in wolf form was able to bound nimbly across the snow while Leif had to fight it with every step. Väinämöinen, Perun, and Zhang Guo Lao didn’t stand a chance, though the latter did his best with some superhuman leaps that would require wire work in the movies. The frost giants just stood there and watched the tiny people go after Thor. Aside from losing two of their number at the very start, they’d been very entertained by the visit to Asgard so far.

If Thor had been smart, he would have thrown his hammer at someone else. Nobody else could avoid the tracking spell on Mjöllnir, and he’d instantly regain his confidence. But his beloved goats were dead, and even his dim bulb of a brain could figure out that, if he resurrected them, Perun would simply strike them again. For an instant I thought he was going to let his hammer fly at Gunnar, because he whirled it around impressively as a precursor to a throw, but what he did instead was throw it without letting go—he targeted some point far in the distance and let Mjöllnir drag him through the air by the handle, the same way it had borne Leif and me to his position in the sky.

“Mrrh-hugh-huuaaagh!” Hrym laughed and pointed. “He’s flying away to go get his daddy.” The frost Jötnar all joined in the laugh and began to speculate about when or if he’d come back for more and whom he’d bring with him next time.

The only one of us that could chase him at this point was Perun, who couldn’t hope to overtake Thor before he reached help. The remaining flying mounts of the Valkyries, having nothing better to do, flew back toward Asgard without their riders.

“Coward!” Leif shouted after the diminishing god in the sky. Gunnar howled.

“Hey, Leif, a little help here, maybe?” I said in a normal tone. “Shove this back into its socket?” The vampire had no trouble hearing me from fifty yards away. He turned, located me, and ran to my aid. The adrenaline was wearing off, and my body was thinking about going into shock.

“Hmm,” he said, braking abruptly in front of me and examining my arm. “You’ve broken a bone as well.”

“Right. Socket first, then set the bones, and I’ll knit from the inside.”

“Ready?”

“No, wait. I need to touch the earth before we do this. I need more juice.”