“Zisa?” Luna gasped. “What did she say?”

  “To give you each one of these.” I handed Luna her strand, and then passed out all the other strands to the appropriate recipients, making certain no one touched the Wyrd strands that weren’t theirs. As I did, I saw their eyes glaze over as they saw their own path in the Wyrd. The Wyrd thread absorbed into their hands. I glanced at Tyr, who nodded.

  “What are they seeing?” Elryn whispered.

  “I don’t know. All I know when I touched them was that I was able to identify who they belonged to.”

  “Nothing else?”

  I shrugged. “Each person was standing in a circle around me. I suspect if I tried to read more deeply into them, they’d give me a Hel of a migraine. So, I didn’t bother.”

  Elryn nodded. “Magical backlash. You seem to get migraines often. Maybe you shouldn’t keep pounding your head on problems.”

  I gave her a rueful sideways glance. “Yeah, when the world starts saving itself.”

  “You still have one string.”

  “Yeah, that’s for Vetr.” I slid the Wyrd string in my pocket, hoping it wouldn’t get me another cheap shot. That Jotun could pack a punch. Had I known what Frank Winter was, I would’ve treaded more carefully. Ah well. Mostly live, and somewhat learn.

  Evrardin was the first to break out of the trance. He grimaced at me and Tyr, and sighed. “I guess you’re right. I can’t go.”

  Luna and Fenrir ended their trance, and gave me the stink eye. I wondered if I was in the dog…er, wolf house over this. I turned to Luna who was clearly pouting. “What did you find out?” I ventured.

  “I’m needed to watch over Dad while you’re gone.” She sniffed back what could’ve been a tear. “Apparently, the Watchers will know you’re not guarding the Tiny House.

  I nodded. “Well, if we’re going to Hell, it makes sense. It’s not like they don’t know what we’re doing.”

  “But you’ll need a wolf,” Fenrir spoke. “A powerful wolf. They’ll know you don’t have me when you show up without a wolf. Even an illusion won’t work.”

  I nodded. “That’s why I need to enlist my new partner, Winter. He has a wolf who is suitable.”

  “Winter? You mean, Frank Winter?” Luna stared at me. “He’s the asshole who cold cocked you, yes?”

  I nodded. “Winter is a Jotun named Vetr.” Fenrir started at that. “He has a powerful wolf named Ulf.”

  Fenrir dropped his gaze. “Sköll,” he muttered.

  I raised an eyebrow. “You mean your half-brother?”

  Fenrir nodded. “He along with Hati are my half-brothers on my mother’s side. Sköll chose to bind himself to Vetr instead of pursuing the sun and swallowing it at Ragnarok.”

  “You know that the sun is a star, right? And it’s not pulled in a chariot drawn by two horses, right? And Sunna isn’t driving the chariot?” I looked from one person to the other.

  Tyr smiled, as if placating a toddler. “Yes, Ironspell, and yes, we told those stories to your more primitive ancestors because they didn’t have the knowledge to understand science. Just as Fenrir is the embodiment of destruction, Loki the embodiment of chaos, and I and the embodiment of law, Sköll is the embodiment of the sun’s ultimate demise.”

  “Oh.” I felt chastised and kind of small at that moment. “But if he doesn’t pursue the sun and swallow it, it won’t be destroyed will it?”

  “Ragnarok comes in many forms.” Loki leaned back with what looked like a cup of mead. “People are always concerned with what happens to them, which is exceeding small minded in the grand scheme of things. Earth’s sun becomes a supergiant in five billion years—humans are unlikely to still be alive by then. Or if they are, they have plenty of time to evolve and get themselves off their rock.”

  I blinked. “You don’t know?”

  Tyr laughed. “Of course we don’t know. Only the Norns have an inkling, and it depends on choices. We don’t know if our choices today leads us into catastrophe or victory. The Norns see all possibilities, but which one affects us in this Multiverse is we won’t know until it happens.”

  “Everything has already happened,” Loki said. “We just don’t know which is our path.”

  “You’re giving me a migraine.” I facepalmed for good measure.

  “No, you have a migraine because you got drunk last night.” Tuzren smirked at me.

  I noted the daemon had shrunk almost to his normal size. “Thanks, I think.”

  “Now that we have that settled, I suggest you get prepared before you have to go back and rescue Sabine.” Tyr looked at me pointedly. “A few days here won’t hurt, since we’re on a different timeline than Earth or Hell. But you need to get your plan together and call in some favors before you go to rescue her.”

  I looked hard at Tyr. “You’re suggesting I make good on Zaphkiel’s offer?”

  Tyr nodded. “None of the Norse pantheon can enter Hell, but an archangel might be able to offer you some protection.”

  “Good idea,” Loki said. “Only if you call him, be sure to do it outside of Asgard’s gates. They can be a bit tetchy with other pantheons.”

  ~ * ~

  Several days later, I stood outside of Asgard’s white walls in the hopes of calling an archangel to me. Elryn and Tuzren stood beside me, looking about as nervous as I felt. Tyr had forbade Luna, Fenrir, and Evrardin from coming along, but they watched from what was the equivalent of a magical security camera focused on us.

  The gods had created Asgard on a gigantic plain and mountain range and the wall encompassed almost the entire universe that is Asgard. What little sat outside the walls extended maybe a mile or two until the land dropped off into nothing. Literally. I had a hard time wrapping my head around the idea that universes came in all sizes, and the universe that held Earth and all the galaxies was actually quite huge as universes go.

  A brisk wind tugged at my clothing and caused clouds to race across the sky in what would usually be a sunny and pleasant day. Instead, the wind cooled me down enough to hug the cloak I borrowed from Gladsheim. Tyr had suggested I take something warm for just this situation.

  Elryn wore her battle armor and had her hand on her short sword, just in case the archangel proved to be too much of a handful. She kept fidgeting and checking her gear until I swatted her hands and told her to stop it. Tuzren stayed in his small size because he knew he’d present a tougher target to blast. Although he wasn’t a Watcher or a demon from Hell, he was a creature from another plane of existence, which still made him a target.

  Because we were just inside Asgard’s plane, it wouldn’t look particularly good for our cause. Zaphkiel and his lot weren’t exactly fond of other gods. In fact, Yahweh often went out of his way to destroy just about any other god or goddess for good measure. He had softened a bit when he had Jesus, but still, bringing down the powers of Heaven next to Asgard’s walls wasn’t my smoothest move. Yet, I needed to have the temporal protection that Asgard afforded me if I was going to rescue Sabine. I couldn’t have much more time pass because they might get impatient and decide to kill her.

  I stepped away from my friends and closed my eyes. I focused hard on the archangel who offered me his help. I gathered my power and added it to the summoning. I raised my arms.

  “Zaphkiel. Zaphkiel. ZAPHKIEL!”

  I slowly opened my eyes. Nothing changed. We still stood outside of Asgard’s walls. The wind still blew, causing my cloak to snap in the breeze. I glanced back at my companions. Tuzren shrugged.

  Then, a bright beam of light lanced down from the sky. It hit the ground like a lightning blast and shook the land. I stumbled and fell to my hands and knees. When I looked up, there was an archangel standing before me with a sword in one hand, in full battle-rattle, with the armor that looked like something modern-day troops would wear, only gold, and magnificent white, scarred wings. He shone with power that almost blinded me. I couldn’t see his hair well because it was short-cropped and under a helmet, but I guessed it was golden, or maybe white. His gray eyes met mine and shone with recognition. He sheathed his sword as I got to my feet. “Ironspell?”

  “Michael!” I gasped, staring at the head archangel of the Heavenly Host. I had seen him twice and actually met him once in my adventures. I glanced back at Elryn and Tuzren, who looked as startled as I felt. “Don’t take this wrong, but what are you doing here? I called Zaphkiel.”

  Michael the Archangel, commander of Yahweh’s Heavenly Host, relaxed and he turned down the brightness around him, thankfully, since my retinas screamed at the abuse. He pulled out a cigarette and a match, and lit it, taking a couple of draws. “Zaphkiel has been sent on other business. Since he’s busy, I got saddled with some of his tasks.”

  “Wait a second. Aren’t you Zaphkiel’s boss?” Tuzren grew somewhat emboldened.

  The archangel turned and considered the daemon. “God is our boss. I just carry out his orders.” He turned to me. “Do you want me to get rid of the demon for you?”

  “You mean Tuz?” I must’ve looked horrified. “No, no, not him. I need your help.”

  Michael stared at me. “You are friends with this unclean creature?”

  “Hey, I take baths…mmmh!” Tuzren spoke as Elryn clapped a hand over his mouth.

  “Yes, and as he said, he does take baths, or at least shower,” I added when the angel gave me the stink eye. “Look, I didn’t summon him, and he’s helped me out quite a bit, so yeah, we’re friends. But I didn’t call Zaph…I mean, you…about him. The Watchers kidnapped Sabine, my mom.”

  Michael blinked. “What did the witch do this time?”

  I took a deep breath. He hadn’t insulted my mom; she considered herself a hedge witch. “You know her?”

  “Not particularly well, but we have crossed paths in the past.” Michael took another drag on the cig and shook his head. “Why do the Watchers want her?”

  “They want Fenrir, and they know I have him.”

  Michael’s left wing twitched, almost spasmodically. “You have the Wolf of Ragnarok?”

  “Careful…” I heard Tuzren mumble around Elryn’s hand that was still over his mouth.

  “Yes, I do. And no, he’s not going with you. I’ve become his caretaker.” I crossed my arms.

  Silence followed as the archangel took another drag, and then pinched the end out and stuck the half-smoked cancer stick in his pocket. “You are now his caretaker.” He looked up, his eyes slightly glazed over, and nodded, as if he was listening to something—or someone—else. “And they want a trade…”

  “Yeah, only I’m not in the mood to cause the End of Days. So, I’m going to go rescue her, and I need a way to get into Hell.”

  “You would not survive a moment there. The demons would kill you.”

  “That’s why I’m asking for your help.”

  Michael grimaced. “You mean you want to go to Hell and mount a rescue?”

  “Yeah, something like that.” I nodded. “I figured I could use the help of an archangel.”

  Michael shook his head. “You will never survive it, and chances are, Sabine is already dead.”

  “Well, if you don’t think you can handle dealing with demons, I understand,” I said. “After all they are tough.” I turned to Tuzren. “Hey Tuz, do you know of some daemons who might be able to get us there?”

  “Wait, I never said I could not handle it,” the archangel objected. “I said you would not survive the experience.”

  Tuzren pulled Elryn’s fingers from his mouth. “I can probably find someone in one of the planes that can lead us there and provide enough protection. We don’t have to rely on an archangel, especially when we’re going where angels fear to tread…”

  “I am not afraid.” Michael’s voice lowered to a growl. “You will be risking your very souls if you enter Hell.”

  I shrugged. “My mom’s life is more important than any risk I could take.” I turned to Elryn and Tuzren. “You two don’t have to come. If it’s as dangerous as Michael says, it could get rocky.”

  Tuzren shook his head. “No way you’re going without me. The Watchers can’t do anything to me—different plane of power.”

  “There’s no way you can get me to leave,” Elryn said. “We’re been through a lot already.”

  “I am dealing with fools.” The archangel shook his head. He looked at me. “Since you fools are so quick to rush in…”

  “…where angels fear to tread,” Tuzren added, which got him a withering gaze from Michael. “Isn’t that how the saying goes?” He shrugged.

  “Something like that,” I said.

  “I am NOT afraid to tread anywhere.” The archangel glared at us all.

  “Tetchy, isn’t he?” Tuzren remarked. “You’d think he’d have a sense of humor.”

  “I HAVE a sense of humor.” Michael crossed his arms.

  “Okay, tell us a joke.” Tuzren stuck his tongue out at him.

  “A joke?”

  “You know, like a priest, a rabbi, and an atheist walk into a bar…”

  “That’s not a very funny set up.”

  “Says you, oh Master of Mirth.” Tuzren flew up until he was right in the archangel’s face.

  “Guys, can we get on with the problem at hand?” I spoke as I watched the apparent escalation between the Commander of the Heavenly Hosts and…well…Tuzren. They both turned and looked at me. I shook my head. It would’ve been comical if the situation wasn’t so serious. “Look, Michael, I hate to be blunt, but we’re running short on time here, even though time here moves faster than that on Earth. Will you honor Zaphkiel’s offer to aid me, or am I going to have to find my own way into Hell?”

  Michael looked at both my friends. “This is your party? An Elf and a half-daemon?”

  “Hey!” Tuzren took a swing at the angel’s nose. Michael simply batted him aside.

  Elryn rounded on Michael. “I am not just an Elf.”

  Michael sighed and suddenly looked very tired. It was odd seeing an angel look weary. At that moment, I saw chinks in what had to be an illusion. His face looked scarred for a moment, and he looked more like a battle veteran than a glowing representation of the Heavenly Host. But that peek into what was most likely his real face vanished as quickly as it appeared. “I apologize. I meant no disrespect. You are a legendary warrior, Elryn, but even you cannot hold back Hell’s hordes. Even with a wizard and a daemon.”

  “Well, I was going to bring two others with me. Winter and his wolf—if he’ll join us.” I added.

  Michael’s brow furrowed. “Winter? You mean the Jotun who calls himself Vetr?”

  “Yeah, he’s my new partner at DWTF.”

  The archangel laughed and shook his head. “I will come with you, if only to make sure Lucifer doesn’t win your souls.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Tuzren flew up to my shoulder, rubbing the half of his face where the angel had swatted him. “I’m sure we’re not looking for new digs there.”

  The archangel gazed at the daemon, and then shook his head. “See you Thursday after you get off your shift. You should have a commitment with Vetr one way or the other.”

  Chapter Four

  The problem with Universe-hopping is that you forget what day it is in your own plane of existence. Case-in-point: I had worked on Tuesday and got knocked out when I took out all the Watchers attacking my home. My new captain, an Elf named Hirolan Relarn, had given me the day off. That meant it was probably still Wednesday when I arrived back on Earth with my friends.

  Sure enough, when we ported back to just outside the Tiny House on the University of Denver’s campus, the clouds had already set in from Fenrir being loose and Fimbulvetr starting all over again. Fimbulvetr is the three-year-long winter that occurs before Ragnarok. With Fenrir freed, the world deep-cycled right into winter, even though it was almost mid-April. Granted, this was Denver, Colorado, and freak snowstorms happened all the time, but Fimbulvetr would extend throughout the entire world if I didn’t do something soon.

  About a couple of inches of snow had already fallen, and the wind whipped around us. I was dressed more for a sunny day in Asgard than I was a cold spring day in Colorado. Despite that, I felt warm, no doubt due to my powers coming from Muspelheim. I glanced at Luna, who just flashed me a smile, because she loved the cold. Elryn didn’t look bothered either, so I shrugged and we walked to my home.

  Fenrir stared at my Tiny House. It had a modern design with large picture windows that let in the sun and showed a sparse interior. You could see the kitchenette, built-in couch and dining area, and the ladder that went to the loft where a person could sleep. The white birch siding made it look like some upscale place that belonged more in the mountains than in the city. Technically, no one could really see the Tiny House because it had my strongest Ignore Me spell combined with an illusion and a Keep Away spell cast on it. My oh-so-many great Dark Elven grandmother, Nana, who married the first Ironspell over a thousand years ago had upped the juice on it for good measure. But the house was sentient and knew when I arrived, thus making her—yeah, the House is a she, another long story—drop the protection for just me and my friends. “You expect us all to live in that?”

  “Keep your fur on.” Tuzren whizzed by him, taking lead to the Tiny House. He flung open the door. “Appearances are deceiving.”

  Fenrir looked at me, and I nodded. We walked up the steps. When the house didn’t change on its little porch, he shook his head. “I see no difference.”

  “Step inside, oh ye of little faith!” Tuzren shouted from the interior.

  I led and Fenrir, Luna, and Elryn followed. The house transformed once you crossed the threshold. It was definitely bigger on the inside. The apparent modest interior as it appeared from the outside gave way to a spacious hall, about five times as big as I last saw it, filled with Dark Elven refugees, presumably my relatives from Svartalfheim. According to Nana, I had about five thousand of them over the centuries—a huge number in my book, but she claimed there’d be more if the two Universes of Nidavellir and Svartalfheim hadn’t collided. The place still stank of unwashed bodies, and my relatives’ flotsam and jetsam that they called belongings littered the entire hall.

 

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