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I stared blankly at her. What in the name of Hel did she expect me to do to feel the World Tree? Her meaning became clear when she motioned to the ground impatiently.
“On your knees, berserker. Hands on mine.”
“You’re a madwoman,” I snapped. “I won’t kneel to you or any other witch.”
Only Eir, and that was only under special circumstances. Often when I had her thighs braced against my face, quivering under the attention of my teeth and tongue.
Fyrcat made an impatient sound in the back of her throat and gestured lazily at the patch of ground under my boots. It slid out from under me as if she’d pulled a rug. I went down on my ass with a curse and, before I could stop her, she’d crawled on top of me.
She was lithe and distractedly feminine above me, every curve molded against mine. She wedged one of her slender knees between my thighs as she came to hover inches away. She smirked when she felt my cock stir. The traitorous thing had a mind of its own. It had been some time since I had a woman. No one since Eir.
We were nose-to-nose, now, close enough to kiss. Her tiny hands encircled my wrists, pressing the backs of my hands against the ground. Her body was dewy with sweet-smelling oil, no doubt to aid her visions and spells. Power shivered in the air between us, like a string that had been plucked. It made my insides quake.
Then I felt it. The cold wind that touched the dead. Any who had died violently in the surrounding countryside would rise first, possessed by the spirits of my brethren. Eventually, all of them who succumbed to the winter would rise as well. It was already touching Marshall Heights. I felt the souls cowering in their homes, struck by fear they couldn’t fully understand. They’d be the first to die. Jovi’s clients, her neighbors, her friends. All of them soon to be slaughtered.
“We have to stop them,” I said.
“We don’t have to do anything,” Fyrcat answered. Her breath smelled like spices. “This house is warded. The dead won’t pass my wards.”
“They will, in time. But even if they don’t, you’ll die long before they reach you.”
I twisted my hips, dislodging the comparatively light witch. She may have been powerfully magical, but she was no match for a warrior in his prime. She let out a soft yelp when I rolled her beneath me. It was my turn to wedge a knee between her legs. The heat between her thighs was distracting. I could scent her desire in the air. I wanted it to disgust me, for I had the possibility of Eir once more and this witch was dangerous. She was casting a spell on me; I was sure of it. She sucked in a breath when I brought the tip of a dagger to rest just beneath her navel.
“Because I will end you first,” I said just as quietly. “You will help me against the dead, or I will spill your entrails on the ground. Which do you choose?”
Her eyes smoldered. With hate or desire, I wasn’t sure.
“I understand, berserker,” she said. “I will help you.”
Then she leaned up, cupping the bulge that strained my leathers. I reared back with a curse, and she laughed.
“Help me up, fool,” she said. “And gather my things. We have a piddling little town to save.”
***
Jovi
I screamed to high heaven. Or… would that be high Valhalla, given where I was? Did the concepts I grew up with apply in this new, topsy-turvy world I found myself in?
The sound bounced back from the darkness, careening off some unseen barrier to hit my ears again. It was a shrill sound that wound down into a soft, pitiful whine before I had the presence of mind to slap a hand over my mouth. Stupid to scream in a place so dangerous that a seeress and a werewolf berserker hesitated to go.
But gods-fucking-dammit it hurt!
Even when I’d managed to get myself under a modicum of control, I couldn’t stop myself from breathing short, emphatic recitations of, “Ow, ow, ow!”
I was afraid to look down and see how my body had fared. Every inch of me was still peppered with pain, like a swarm of fire ants had burrowed under my skin and made a home there. Eventually, though, I managed to talk myself down from my own cowardice.
I opened my eyes and cautiously examined my body, expecting to find the flesh burning off my bones. But there was no fire. Well, not on me, anyway. In fact, there wasn’t a single burn on me. As if realizing as much, the pain began to lessen. My clothes, however were only so much dust. It would have been nice of Fyrcat to warn me I’d be pursuing Torsten in the nude. Maybe she’d thought the spectacle would be funny. Or maybe she hadn’t counted on me living long enough to make it here.
At least I had the comfort of knowing I wasn’t alone. Torsten would be buck-naked too, if he’d also survived the journey. I had to admit the prospect of a hulking, nude, and sweaty wolf fending off demons had warmth shooting places it shouldn’t be. Stupid to be thrilled at the thought of watching my boyfriend doing battle with monsters. But a tiny, guilty part of my mind was.
I mean, come on, how often did you get to see a real-life sex god go 300-style on some fire-giant ass? Never. That’s when.
I panted heavily, trying to suck in a full breath. The air in Muspelheim was thin, most of it sucked away by the fires that raged in the distance. I swore the heat was drying out my eyes, even as I tried to make out my surroundings. Squinting through the ripples of heat at the dark stone paths that cut through a landscape, I was only able to make out the vague outlines of ash-covered outcroppings and the winding rivers of magma somewhere far below. Ash fell from the sky, clinging to my arms as sweat wept from my pores. The molten glow from below reflected off the ash clouds, casting diffused, orange-red light over my surroundings. It was impossible to tell whether the long shadows cast by boulders moved because of the quality of the light, or some scuttling thing hiding within them.
“This had to be the inspiration for Hell,” I muttered, though it was an effort to even speak the words. I was breathing hard, even while standing still. If I wasn’t careful, I’d faint from lack of oxygen, and then I was demon chow. This place wasn’t built with humans in mind.
Nothing for it now. The clock was ticking, and Torsten could be anywhere. I shuffled forward along the path, wincing with every step. It was like walking on summer asphalt. So warm, I wanted to dance backward, but there was no safe place to put my feet. I had to resort to an odd shuffle-hop, until my feet were so numb, I could walk flat-footed. It was a bad sign. I could only hope I’d be healed on the way back to Midgard. It would be a shame to lose my feet.
