The Unleashing

Book 1: Call of Crows

by Shelly Laurenston

Genres: Action & Adventure; Humorous Fantasy; Humor & Satire

Synopsis

Kera Watson never expected to face death behind a Los Angeles coffee shop. Not after surviving two tours lugging an M16 around the Middle East. If it wasn't for her hot Viking customer showing up too late to help, nobody would even see her die.




In uncountable years of service to the Allfather Odin, Ludvig "Vig" Rundstrom has never seen anyone kick ass with quite as much style as Kera. He knows one way to save her life-but she might not like it. Signing up with the Crows will get Kera a new set of battle buddies: cackling, gossiping, squabbling, party-hearty women. With wings. So not the Marines.




But Vig can't give up on someone as special as Kera. With a storm of oh-crap magic speeding straight for L.A., survival will depend on combining their strengths: Kera's discipline, Vig's loyalty...and the Crows' sheer love of battle. Boy, are they in trouble.

Release date: April 1, 2015

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 400

Sample

She didn’t know what woke her up.

The lightning and thunder crashing outside the bedroom window? A rare thing in the beginning of an L.A. summer; so maybe. Or the fact that she was in a strange bed? Or the fact that she was naked in a strange bed?

Or maybe it was the squeak of the bedroom door as it was eased open.

After more than a decade as a United States Marine, Kera didn’t sleep deeply like she used to when she was a kid. She’d done her tours in the Middle East, and being prepared for anything had become a permanent part of her DNA. But it hadn’t just been the enemy she’d had to watch out for. Sometimes, sadly, she’d been forced to protect herself from other Marines. Males who should have known better.

But she’d stupidly left all that behind more than eighteen months ago. Now she worked in a coffeehouse. She made overpriced coffee and sold overpriced baked goods to people who didn’t think they could get through the day without their caffeine fix.

So then where the hell was she?

At the moment, Kera didn’t know. She couldn’t remember anything past taking out the trash from the coffeehouse because none of the wannabe actors and models and singers she worked with would get off their lazy asses and do it themselves. So Kera had done it. And then . . . and then . . . ?

Someone leaned in close. Too close. It was a man. She didn’t like men she didn’t know being this close to her. It brought back uncomfortable memories. It made her muscles twitch and the hair on the back of her neck rise up in protest.

Kera could wait to see if he just went away, but “waiting to see” had never been one of her strong suits.

He didn’t touch her, but he leaned in a little more. Like he was trying to see her face.

“Must be a new girl,” he muttered.

“Snorri!” someone said from out in the hall. “Get moving! We’re running out of time!”

Running out of time for what? And who the hell named their kid “Snorri”? Was this some kind of home invasion? And what home was Kera in? She tried to remember . . . something. But her brain felt strangely hazy. Like a piece of cheesecloth was covering it, preventing her from seeing clearly.

That wasn’t like her. She was known for her excellent memory and ability to quickly analyze and adjust accordingly.

God, how she missed the Marines. It hadn’t been an easy life. Actually, it had been hard. Hard, but rewarding.

You’re dying.

No, she wasn’t. Kera wasn’t dying.

You’re on your last breath. So you have a choice to make.

Oh God. That’s what she had said to Kera. The veiled woman standing by that big tree. She’d been tall and covered from head to foot in a sheer veil that still managed to hide everything. There’d been something about the woman, too. Something that radiated strength and intelligence . . . and power.

God, who was that woman? What was her name? What was her—

My name is Skuld. And I’m offering you a chance at a second life. Will you take it? Will you join us?

And Kera’s reply had been . . . Under one condition.

Under one condition? What condition? What condition had Kera insisted upon? She couldn’t remember. Why couldn’t she remember?

The man glanced back at the partially opened door but whoever had spoken to him was gone.

“Demanding cow,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Always ordering me around. I’ll do what I want.”

He turned back to Kera and that’s when they both heard it. The low growl coming from beside Kera, the big body lifting off the bed and easing over her to viciously snarl at the man so close.

Kera couldn’t say she physically recognized the animal giving the man a warning growl on Kera’s behalf. But she still knew her. How could she not? They’d been together since the day Kera had rescued the creature. But she’d looked different then. A poor abused pit bull, missing part of her muzzle and most of her teeth. A fifty-pound female used for breeding and then left to rot tied to a truck motor near some warehouse in Kera’s neighborhood.

But that wasn’t the same dog now looming over Kera, and yet . . . it was. It was Brodie. Kera’s precious dog that she’d . . . that she’d . . .

“On one condition,” she’d told the veiled woman. “I have to bring my dog.”

Fathomless eyes had frowned at her over the veil. “What?”

“I’ll take your offer . . . but only if I can bring my dog. No dog, no deal.”

“You’re serious? You’re willing to give up your chance at a second life for a dog?”

“I won’t go without Brodie.”

Folding her arms over her chest, the woman had held what looked like a watering can . . . which seemed, to put it mildly, weird.

“You do know,” the woman asked Kera, “that you’re standing in front of me with a knife sticking out of your chest? Right? I send you back now, like this, and it’s over. No second life. No feasting at Valhalla. No Ragnarok. You do understand that, right?”

“Not really. I don’t know what Valhalla and Ragnarok have to do with anything. What I do know is that I don’t go anywhere without Brodie. I’m not leaving her. She comes with me or I don’t go. It’s that simple.”

“You’d give up everything I’m offering you for a dog?”

“She was there for me when no one else was. I won’t leave her.”

The woman leaned back a bit. “Fascinating. Absolutely fascinating.”

But the veiled woman must have agreed to Kera’s terms, because here was Brodie—true, a brand-new Brodie, but still—fangs bared, body tense, ready to strike at any minute while her muzzle pressed in close to the man, disgusting dog slobber sliding down his cheek. Appalled, he pulled back, stepping away from the bed and wiping his face while he shuddered.

Kera got to her knees while Brodie watched the man closely, and Kera couldn’t believe how she felt.

Strong. Powerful. Mean.

Very, very mean. Because who the fuck was this guy in her room, sniffing around her? How was that okay? It wasn’t. She knew it wasn’t. She didn’t know how she knew, but she knew he wasn’t supposed to be here. And no one with him was supposed to be here either.

Kera looked down at her hands, curled her fingers into fists. She took in a deep breath, let it out. She was no longer just human, was she? The veiled woman had given her something more than just a second chance at life. She’d promised her power. For some that meant money, cars, expensive shoes. But for Kera it meant how her body felt at this moment. Like it could handle anything. Absolutely anything.

She looked up at the man and even in the dark room, she saw him blanch. Knew in that instant that he feared her.

And Kera liked that. She liked that a lot.

Freida moved through the Bird House hallway, ordering her Clan to move faster. They didn’t have a lot of time. In and out, that’s what this was supposed to be. In and out.

She realized that Snorri was still in that room. She didn’t like that. Snorri was kind of stupid and had a tendency to not do what she needed him to do, when she needed him to do it. Of course, he didn’t take orders from women well at all.

He was Old School Viking as the Clans liked to call it.

Freida just called it Old School Stupid.

She turned around and headed back toward the bedroom she’d left him in, but stopped when the partially closed door slammed shut all the way seconds before Snorri came crashing through it.

A few seconds later, a medium-sized, brown-skinned woman followed behind him. She was naked, thick brown hair reaching just past strong shoulders and even more powerful legs. A tattoo on her bicep said “United States Marine” and another on her upper left shoulder said “Donnie.”

Freida didn’t understand. The house was supposed to be empty. They’d used the theft of a powerful old ring that once belonged to Skuld to lure all of the inhabitants out. Not just one or two strike teams but all the Crows, so the entire house was empty. Then who the fuck was this Crow? Why was she here?

The Crow looked around, saw the rest of Freida’s Clan.

She faced Freida and that’s when Freida saw it. The just-healed wound right in the center of the woman’s chest.

This one had been stabbed to death. Freida knew a stab wound when she saw one. Stabbed to death and then brought back by the goddess Skuld to fight as one of her Crows.

This was a new girl. Probably just died a few hours or even a few minutes ago.

That’s why this woman was left here by the other Crows. It was too soon to take her out for battle.

Good, then she should be easy enough to—

Anders had crept up behind the woman from a room on the opposite side of the hall and swung his hammer at her head. While still staring at Freida, the woman had dropped into a crouch so Anders’s hammer collided with the wall. Where it stuck.

While he tried to pry it loose, the Crow stood and grabbed Anders by his hair, yanked him down while bringing her knee up. She shattered his nose and his cheekbones with one move, then dragged him one way and the other until she planted him face-first into the wall.

Freida rolled her eyes. That’s when the Crow grabbed Anders’s hammer and with one pull freed it.

No one took her Clan’s hammers. They were sacred. Each one made specifically for each warrior in the image of Thor’s hammer, Mjölnir.

“You idiots!” Freida raged. “Stop the bitch!”

Her Clan poured from the other bedrooms and charged the new girl. The Crow hefted the hammer once . . . then started swinging.

Disgusted, Freida went to handle the woman herself, but a hundred-pound pit bull walked out of the bedroom and bared its fangs at her.

This night was just getting better and better.

Kera really liked this hammer.

Of course, she didn’t know people still used hammers for anything but rebuilding a house. At least not since the sixteenth or seventeenth century. But a weapon was a weapon as far as she was concerned. Besides, the hammer reminded her of playing softball in junior high and high school. She was a pretty good player back then . . . and she was still a good player now, tossing these really big guys and gals around.

The men were all bare-chested with big brands burned directly into their chests. A circle with some kind of symbol in the middle. Maybe a letter. She didn’t really know. It looked like a fucked-up P. The women wore tank tops, but they all had the same brand above their breasts and on part of their necks.

So a cult maybe? Kera didn’t know. All that mattered at the moment was that she was being attacked and she had a hammer. The rest was pretty much instinct.

She swung the hammer again and slammed someone into the wall. She turned and swung it again, putting someone else through a door.

God, she felt strong. Her whole body seemed to be vibrating with newfound strength. It was amazing!

Kera swung the hammer again but it slammed into another hammer held by an older man. He had long white hair and a big beard. Like a biker . . . or how she imagined Grizzly Adams would look in his sixties. Yet although his face suggested he was in his sixties, his body . . . wow.

He locked their hammers together by the heads and yanked. He’d probably hoped that would take the hammer from Kera’s hand, but she held on and let the man swing her. First to one side, then another.

A little fed up, she dug her feet in and yanked back. She loved how the man’s eyes popped wide when he was jerked forward several feet. Clearly he wasn’t used to anyone being able to move him like that.

Kera jerked the hammer again, dragging the man down the hall. While she did, her dog, Brodie, had her back. Snapping and charging at anyone who got too close to Kera.

To this day, Kera couldn’t tell what had possessed her to help the ugly little dog. Brodie had not been friendly. But Kera had just moved back to Los Angeles after leaving the Marines. She’d been feeling edgy, tense . . . and angry. Getting work had been harder than she’d thought it would be. Her old friends from high school didn’t know how to talk to her. They treated her like a freak, an outsider. At least that’s the way it felt at the time. And that was perhaps what had attracted Kera to the dog. God knows, Brodie had looked like a freak, an outsider herself at that moment. In the end, it had turned out that ugly, mean little dog was willing to do anything, risk anything, to protect Kera.

And Brodie’s apparent reward for that loyalty? Well, now she was a tall, muscular, one hundred or so pound, beautiful pit bull with all her teeth and her muzzle undamaged. But Brodie was still willing to do anything, risk anything to protect Kera.

Still struggling for control over their hammers, Kera and the older cult member reached the end of the hall and made it to a circular area, a balcony, she guessed, that had more halls shooting from it, with more bedrooms. There were also two sets of stairs that went down at least three flights to the first floor, which she could easily see by looking over the banister. In the middle of all this was a giant crystal chandelier that probably cost more than Kera’s parents’ house.

Kera was in a mansion—and she was still unclear how she’d gotten here.

It was in that moment of shock that the older man made his move.

He lifted his hammer and, in the process, he lifted Kera.

Suddenly she was standing on the banister, her bare toes gripping the polished wood and her hold on that hammer the only thing keeping her from falling three flights.

Unable to unlock the heads of their weapons, the man started pushing the hammers toward Kera, which forced her back. She glanced behind her to see the unforgiving marble floor beneath her. She didn’t want to fall, but the other cult members were coming at her again, swinging their hammers or just ramming them at her.

Fed up, Kera gripped her toes against the smooth wood as best she could, bent her knees, and with one good pull, yanked the old guy and his hammer over the side. He screamed as they fell, and Kera wrapped her legs around his bare chest and turned them both in the air so that when they landed . . .

Freida looked over the banister and saw poor Pieter stretched out on the marble floor, blood starting to pool beneath his head. The new girl was on top of him, momentarily knocked out.

“Move!” Frieda ordered. “Now!”

They had to get out and they had to get out now.

She turned, gesturing to her people to go down one of the flights of stairs. As she started to follow, that damn dog came at her again. Frieda swung her hammer and the dog went flying into the wall all the way at the end of the hallway. It made that sound that dogs make when they’re hurt, but before Frieda could reach the top of the closest set of stairs, the damn thing was already getting to its feet.

“Fuck,” Frieda snarled before running down the stairs after her people.

“Out the back,” she ordered. “Move!”

Frieda reached the last set of stairs in time to hear a grunt and she was not surprised to see the new girl was already getting to her feet, the hammer still in her hands.

With her legs braced on either side of Pieter, she swung the hammer at Lorens, who had been trying to get Pieter up.

Frieda hit the last step and let out a battle cry, charging the new Crow, her hammer raised.

The woman ducked as Frieda swung, and she ended up missing the Crow’s head. She swung again and the woman caught Frieda’s hammer with her own, the same way Pieter had caught the stolen hammer minutes before.

Great. A fast learner. Not what they needed right now.

Frieda yanked the woman, pulling her away from Pieter’s body. Three of her people used that moment to pick Pieter up. He was still alive but bleeding badly and who knew what internal damage had been done. They needed a healer and they needed one soon.

Frieda yanked again and dragged the smaller woman over to her. With their weapons locked, Frieda leaned in and snarled. The smaller woman responded by head-butting her in the chin.

Frieda heard a crack and then, a second later, felt the pain as her jaw was dislocated. Not the first time that had happened, which was why she knew it had happened again.

Really pissed off now, Frieda charged forward, slamming the woman into the wall, pinning the Crow bitch there.

Barely able to swallow, Freida felt drool pour from between her clenched teeth, her mouth unable to open until she got it fixed. The sudden torrent of liquid might have disgusted the naked woman but it didn’t stop her. Nothing seemed to stop her.

She shoved Frieda, the muscles in her arms bulging as she did so.

Frieda stumbled back. She rarely met anyone who was as strong as she was and not one of her Clan. Like their god, they were born strong. True warriors of the mighty Thor to the end.

But this Crow . . . she was different. Other Crows were powerful, of course. But not this strong. Never this strong.

The woman continued to push Frieda back and back and back again as that monstrosity of a dog ran to its master’s side.

Then, with a growl—from the woman, not the dog—the little bitch spun and took Frieda with her. Seconds before she let Frieda go . . .

Kera sent the woman flying through the glass French doors and out onto the patio. She followed after her, ignoring the broken glass she was stepping on. She reached down and yanked the second hammer out of the woman’s hands.

She hefted both and raised them. Her thought was to smash the woman’s head between the two weapons; to turn that head into nothing but blood and pulp and pieces of skull. But before she finished the double swing, Kera stopped.

Dear God . . . what the hell was wrong with her?

She wasn’t bloodthirsty. She didn’t try to kill people. She understood damn well the difference between defending herself and just hurting people to hurt them. But she was mad. She was pissed.

Kera lowered the weapons just as lightning flashed. That’s when she saw them. Surrounding her. Some restrained the woman’s branded friends; long, thin blades pressed against important arteries. Throats, inner thighs, near the armpit.

They held the woman’s friends captive while they silently watched Kera.

Knowing she was done, Kera tossed the hammers aside.

The woman immediately rolled to one side, reaching for her hammer, but a small Asian woman stomped on her hand with a black boot.

The woman screamed and grabbed her fingers. The Asian woman walked around her, then kicked her in the stomach, the side, and finally her face.

The Asian woman leaned over, resting her hands on her bent knees. “I don’t know why you’re here, Frieda. But if we find you here again without an invite, I’ll peel your face off your skull.”

She grabbed “Frieda” by her short blond hair and dragged her to her feet.

“Now get out.”

Frieda, gripping her ribs with one arm, leaned down to grab her hammer. Kera didn’t think it was to attack this time, just to take it, but the Asian woman suddenly swung at Frieda’s face with her hand, tearing skin from her cheek and jaw.

Frieda screamed and ignored her weapon to put her free hand against her bleeding face.

“Those belong to her now,” the Asian woman said, pointing at Kera. “Get out.”

Panting and bleeding everywhere, Frieda ran off and her people followed, cutting through the trees behind the house.

Once they were gone, the Asian woman faced Kera. She looked her over and then her lip curled and she pointed. “What is that?”

Kera looked down at herself. “What?”

“That?”

Kera realized she was pointing at her dog. “That’s Brodie Hawaii.”

“Isn’t that a . . . a . . . what do they call those dogs?” she asked . . . someone.

“Pit bull,” someone answered.

“Yes! Is that a pit bull? We can’t have a pit bull here. Our insurance is not going to cover any pit bulls or those dogs from the seventies that used to kill people.”

“Dobermans.”

“Yes. Those. You can have a poodle, though. I’ve heard they’re super smart!”

Kera, exhausted now just from that brief thirty seconds of stupid conversation, shook her head. “I don’t care about your insurance. Brodie stays.”

“I understand. You don’t grasp that here I’m in charge.”

“You don’t grasp that I don’t care. And if you’re in charge, then you need to do a better job of protecting your property.”

The Asian woman took a step toward Kera, but a taller black woman quickly cut in front of her. “No, Chloe.”

“I’m going to twist her like a pretzel.”

The black woman looked back at Kera before replying, “No, you’re not. For many reasons. So let’s all just relax and think this through.”

“There’s nothing to think through,” Kera said. “Brodie stays or we both go. There’s no other option. Now, I’m going to go back to my room . . . with Brodie. So if you’ll excuse me . . . ?”

When no one said anything, Kera headed back into the house, Brodie by her side.

Erin Amsel stared down at the new girl, who’d passed out on the first six steps leading to the bedrooms. She was snoring like a drunk sailor. And so was the dog.

It was not pretty, but the kid had been through a lot. So Erin would cut her some slack.

Besides. She liked this new girl. Not a lot of people back-talked Chloe—while naked—it was entertaining.

“I am not digging the new chick,” Chloe Wong announced and they all stared at her. Nothing was more awkward than when Chloe tried to sound like something other than what she was: a pompous know-it-all who killed for a god.

Erin began to say something, but Tessa Kelly, who had been Erin’s team leader since Erin had first woken up in the Bird House four years ago, cut her off with a, “Don’t even.”

Erin closed her mouth and Tessa said, “Don’t be too hard on her, Clo. She woke up with Giant Killers in the house. No one should have to deal with that on their first day.”

“Why were the Killers in our house?” Alessandra Esporza asked, immediately looking bored as soon as the words left her mouth. Nothing really entertained Alessandra for long . . . except shopping. The woman originally came from money and she just loved to shop.

“I don’t know. That’s a good quest—where are you going, Alessandra? You asked me a question.”

“Oh, I’m listening. I’m just going to get some champagne.”

Erin shook her head. “She’s not listening.”

Chloe glanced down at the girl. “We’ll deal with all this tomorrow.” She stepped over the snoring new girl. “You guys get her back to bed. I want watchers in the trees until the sun comes up.”

“I doubt the Killers will be back,” Tessa noted.

“Let’s not take a chance. Like their god, they are none too bright.”

“Leigh. Annalisa.” Tessa pointed at the new girl. “Take the kid upstairs.”

“Sure that’s a good idea?” Erin asked.

“You want us to let her sleep on the stairs? These stairs are hard marble.”

“No.” Erin moved in close to her team leader. “You know what will happen if we take responsibility for her. She’ll be part of our team.”

“So?”

Erin pointed at the new girl’s tattoo. Tessa glanced down and repeated, “Donnie.”

“Not that tattoo. The other one. She’s an ex-marine. You know what that means.”

“That she’ll be kind of a pain in the ass?”

Erin smiled. “Exactly.”

He didn’t even hesitate. He just turned on her, that big kitchen knife in his hand.

But she’d always been kind of fast and managed to stop him before he could plunge the weapon in her heart.

But she couldn’t stop him. He was so strong.

All the skills she’d picked up. All the training provided by the U.S. government didn’t mean shit in this dark alley behind her job at the coffee shop.

She fought, but she just wasn’t strong enough.

She heard a deep voice cry out, “No!” but it was too late.

The blade rammed into her chest, past skin and flesh and bone. And right into her—

The door slammed open and Kera sat up, desperately trying to get the sleep out of her eyes, the panic of knowing she was dying still raging through her veins.

When her sight was no longer blurry, she watched the Asian woman she’d met last night stand on Kera’s bed, open the window over the headboard, lean out, and scream, “You are an asshole!”

Kera put her hands to her head and asked the air, “What’s happening?”

Three other women, casually dressed in shorts and T-shirts or bathing suits, rushed into the room—a different room, she’d just realized, from the one she’d woken up in last night—and desperately tried to pry the Asian woman from the window. But she wasn’t having any of that.

“Asshole! Asshole! Asshole!”

“Chloe!” a female voice yelled from outside. “Go inside! I’ll handle this.”

“Asshole!”

“I am trying to help you!” a male voice yelled back.

“Help us? By accusing us of being thieves? That’s you being helpful?”

“Maybe if you stopped being an emotional twat—”

“Twat?” the little Asian exploded.

Kera scrambled off the bed to avoid the flailing arms and heaving bodies. She took a quick look around and found a big T-shirt to cover her nakedness.

She yanked it on, and that’s when she realized Brodie was gone.

“Brodie?” she called out. “Brodie?”

Kera left the room—and the yelling—and walked into the hallway. She stopped right outside her room and gazed at a hole in the wall that she realized she’d put there. She glanced at the room across the hall. There was no longer a door on that room, and Kera knew that was because of her.

Deciding to focus on her dog and nothing else at the moment, Kera quickly walked down the hallway until she reached the circular area with the two sets of marbled stairs.

“Oh, you’re up,” a yawning voice said from behind her.

Kera looked over her shoulder at the woman standing in an open doorway, scratching her dark red hair. She wore tiny white shorts and an even tinier white tank top that really made all the bruises on her pale body stand out.

She yawned again and said, “I thought you’d be asleep long—”

“Asshole!”

They both glanced down toward Kera’s new room, then back at each other.

“Well . . . since you’re up now and it doesn’t seem like—”

“Asshole! Asshole! Asshole!” the Asian woman chanted as she marched out of Kera’s room with the other three women behind her. But the “asshole” must have said something, because she spun around and charged back into the room, and the screaming started all over again.

“That’s Chloe,” the redhead said. “She’s in charge.”

Kera frowned. “In charge of what?”

“Us.”

“I find that disturbing. And sad.” Kera pushed her hands in her hair. “So, this isn’t—”

“Let me answer all your questions for you right off the bat,” she cut in. “No, this isn’t a dream. Yes, you died. Yes, you were brought back by a Nordic goddess. Yes, you’re one of us. No, you’re not pure evil. Did I cover it all?”

“Actually, I was just going to say this isn’t a very well-organized group . . . but okay.”

The redhead frowned. “Organized? We’re Crows.”

Kera shrugged. “I don’t know what that means.”

“You will.”

“What happened to me? Why am I here?”

“Sweetie . . . you died.”

“Wha . . . I . . . what?”

Kera pressed her hand to her chest. Even with the T-shirt on, she could feel where the knife had gone in.

She’d been taking the coffeehouse garbage to the Dumpster out back when she’d seen them. The girl was barely sixteen, if that. And he was slapping her around the alley. Kera couldn’t ignore that. She should have just called the police but after ten years of handling situations like this herself, it had honestly never occurred to her. Instead, she’d dropped the trash in her hands and walked over there.

In the Marines, she’d always been known for her easy way of handling these kinds of situations. She knew how to talk to people. How to treat them. She didn’t just start yelling and screaming. And she’d approached this situation in the same exact way.

“Hey,” she’d said, once. He’d turned on her and grabbed her by the neck with one hand. Kera had tried to fight him then, pounding at him with her fists, kicking him, anything. But she’d been too weak. Too weak to stop him. And, without a word, he’d buried a long butcher knife in her chest.

Just like that. No warning. No argument. No threats. He’d just turned . . . and killed her.

The girl had run off, screaming and crying. And he’d followed. Kera dropped to the ground, shocked, unable to breathe. Then arms were around Kera and she was looking up into another man’s face. She knew this man. He came into the coffeehouse every day. Kera was the only one who would serve him. The only one who would take the time to talk to him. No one else would.

And this man had stared down at her, eyes wide, and said, “Skuld, please. I’m calling on you.”

Then, the next thing Kera knew . . . she was arguing about her dog with a woman wearing a veil and holding a watering can.

Wait . . . what?

The Asian woman shot past Kera, flying down the stairs, the other women following after her.

“But before we bother discussing all that boring ‘you died and now you’re a Crow’ business,” the redhead said, her grin wide, “let’s have some fun.” She gestured to the stairs. “Shall we?”

Erin led the new girl down the stairs, watched as she took it all in. Joining this life could definitely be overwhelming. Unlike the other Nordic clans representing different gods, the Crows weren’t born into this life.