AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He gave me a dark look and continued walking until we reached the crossroads. The only indication that the supernatural gateway existed, apart from the powerful currents of energy that emanated from it, was a Nordic design for Yggdrasil, the tree of life. To the untrained eye, the design simply looked like the artistic carving on a mighty oak tree. To those in the know, however, Yggdrasil represented much more—a tree connected to the nine realms of the universe. It seemed that the Norse had vastly underestimated that number though.
A few feet in front of the crossroads, two werewolves kicked a soccer ball between them. They’d cleared enough snow so that the ball rolled across the damp ground.
“Is this a private game or can anybody play?” I asked.
The ball rolled past the feet of the stocky brunette as he stopped to stare at us. I instantly identified Meathead’s brother, Ivan. They had the same prominent brow ridge.
“Sorry, West,” the kicker said. “We just wanted to release a little energy without leaving the post.”
“I don’t have a problem with it,” West said. “As long as you’re paying attention to what comes in and out of that gateway, we’re good.”
“On that note,” I began, “did you happen to see any creatures scamper in or out the night before last?”
“Define creature,” the kicker said.
I held back an impatient groan.
“Anything or anyone at all,” West said. “You know we’ve got a wolf down, and Bert says he might’ve seen a lost dog in the area.”
“What kind of dog?” Ivan asked.
“Doesn’t matter. Did you see any dog at all?” West asked.
“Any animal,” I added. “If you saw an ant crawling out of the crossroads, I want to know about it.”
Ivan lit up. “Hey, you’re the Ruins lady. Meathead told me about your chat last night.”
Beside me West heaved a deep sigh.
“Is his name actually Meathead?” I asked.
“Since his sixth birthday,” Ivan replied.
“And what was it before that?”
“Dyson, but he didn’t like being associated with a vacuum. Everyone kept telling him he sucked.”
“Because Meathead is so much better,” I mumbled.
Ivan picked up the ball and bounced it off his knees. “It is to a six-year-old.”
The kicker regarded us. “To answer your question, we didn’t see anything that night.”
“But we thought we heard the sound of gunshots,” Ivan added. “Turns out that was Chutney.”
“What really happened to him?” the kicker asked. “I’ve heard a dozen theories, and none of them makes any sense.”
“If witnesses saw a dog, wouldn’t they have been able to track its scent?” Ivan asked. “Lucas and I can scent a dog from a mile away, and we haven’t smelled one here recently.”
“That’s what we’re trying to piece together,” West said. “Any more questions or can I ask mine now?”
The guards lowered their heads.
“I heard what Chutney looked like when they found him,” Ivan said. “There’s no way a dog did that to him.”
I was impressed that West managed to not lose his temper. I was ready to pick up the soccer ball and ping them both in the head with it. I was beginning to think they named the wrong brother Meathead.
“Unless a demon came through the crossroads and Bert mistook it for a dog, but I know if any living creature crossed that boundary, one of you would’ve reported it, right?” West folded his arms and gauged their reactions with alpha-style intensity.
