they all could. And the world was meant for only the living, not those who had passed over.
People still jammed the sidewalks, even though it was after one in the morning. Taxis and cars vied with city vehicles for road space. A black cat with a notch out of one ear ran across his path, pausing to hiss at him before continuing on.
He resisted the urge to growl at the arrogant feline. Instead, he pulled out his phone and pressed the first contact number. Maccus wasn’t likely to answer, but he could leave a message and give them a heads-up. Their fearless leader hated small talk or contact of almost any kind. Although he’d mellowed some since he’d met his woman.
Surprisingly, the phone was answered on the third ring. “What?”
“Odin showed up tonight. He had a task for me.”
Maccus cursed in several different languages, managing to be quite inventive. “Dare I ask what the god wanted?”
Bjorn stopped long enough to put twenty bucks in the cup of a homeless person, got a nod in return, and kept going. The tattoos on the man’s arms marked him as military. It pained him to see so many soldiers who’d fought for their country out here on the streets.
“A woman somehow crossed back over to this side.”
“From Valhalla?”
“He says from Freya’s Hall.”
Maccus released a low whistle. “How is that possible?”
“It’s not. Or it shouldn’t be. At least not without some special sanction from the goddess.” It went without saying the woman didn’t have any special dispensation or he wouldn’t have been ordered to hunt and kill her. He turned down a side street that was marginally quieter, his long legs eating up the distance to his destination.
“I don’t like this.”
“No shit.” The itch between his shoulders intensified. He glanced around, scanning his surroundings, looking for anything out of place. His wolf went quiet inside him, hackles rising. “Timing sucks.”
Raised male voices caught Bjorn’s attention, almost drowning out that of a woman. “I gotta go. I’m about fifteen, maybe twenty minutes away. We’ll talk when I get there.”
He ended the conversation and shoved his phone in his back pocket. This time of night, a woman’s shout of distress would likely go unanswered. Even if someone called the cops, they’d probably be too late to stop whatever was about to happen.
His fingers curled into fists, the bones cracking under the force of his anger, even as he turned in the direction of the commotion. No way could he walk away from a woman in need. He had contempt for men who preyed on women. It had never been his way, not even among his own brethren, many of whom thought nothing of owning slaves. He’d never fit in. Not when he was alive, and certainly not since he’d become an immortal killing machine.
“Stay back,” the woman yelled.
A chill ran down his spine, even though the mid-July night was muggy and hot.
“Come party with us. Don’t be shy, pretty lady,” one of the men taunted. “You know you want to. Why else you be out on your own so late at night?”
Another man made some kissing sounds.
The third man scowled. The men ranged across the front of an alleyway, blocking his view of the woman beyond. All of them wore leather jackets, despite the heat. They were likely carrying weapons. He wouldn’t kill them, only teach them a lesson.
“What the fuck is going on?” Bjorn demanded.
The one with the scowl turned to him, cold blue eyes flashing with anger. “Mind your fucking business.” Even though Bjorn was bigger, the man never wavered.
“This is my fucking business.” Anticipation roared through him.
The woman had retreated to the safety of the shadows. If she was smart, she was trying to find another way out.
“Three against one,” the one who’d made the kissing sounds pointed out. He wasn’t wearing anything under his jacket, his pale white flesh covered in gang tattoos. No boy scouts in this bunch. “You might want to move along.”
Bjorn stood with his arms at his sides and his legs apart and glared. He didn’t mind fighting, but that usually attracted attention, something he didn’t want or need. Not to mention he didn’t want to freak out the woman if she was still in the alley.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he told them. “You want to see another sunrise, you move along.”
“Oh, big man.” The one who seemed to be the ringleader of this motley bunch slid a gun from beneath his jacket and aimed it at Bjorn’s