Eir never took her eyes off Thor and the wound she was healing. “The Dominion Sect must have taken the tithes owed to Odin to break the veil. That is over a century’s worth of souls.”
Which meant it was maybe enough power to cause the end of the world.
“I’m not getting my yearly bonus,” Patrick said, lifting his hand out of the way of Eir’s so she had space to work. “You brought a hell to Chicago, and I know I joked about scratching the Bean, but I didn’t mean like this.”
Thor suddenly heaved beneath Eir’s hands, spitting up blood. Patrick grabbed him by the shoulder and turned the god onto his side so Thor could better clear his airway. It gave Eir room to work on the wound in Thor’s back.
“The veil can still be closed,” she said.
“How?”
“How else but by sacrifice?” Fenrir said through Jono’s wolf form.
Eir glanced at Fenrir, her stormy eyes shining with magic. “Not with Thor and not with Odin. Not with any of us, wolf. This will not be our Ragnarök.”
“I have not tasted Odin’s blood in an age, valkyrie. Perhaps it is time.”
Eir moved so fast Patrick had no time to react. She spun her spear until the point came to rest right between Jono’s wolf-bright blue eyes. The spear never wavered even as she poured all her magic into Thor to heal him with her other hand.
“You will not taste it here.”
Fenrir moved his head and licked the spear point. “There is a price for everything. That has never changed.”
“No one is paying anyone anything until we know what the fuck is going on,” Patrick snapped.
“Uh,” Wade said, staring through Patrick’s shield in the direction of the broken windows. “Is that supposed to be there?”
Patrick followed where he pointed, squinting at the pillar of light that burned bright even through the snow. It hadn’t been there earlier, and its presence didn’t promise anything good. Within the light was a twisted shape growing and reaching for the sky with impossible branches, hints of eternity blooming between its sprouting leaves.
“It is Yggdrasil,” Thor said in a voice that sounded as if he’d swallowed nails. He got one arm underneath him and shoved himself up, blinking rapidly. “It is the world tree.”
The living connection that tied the Nine Realms together ruled over by the Norse gods, a myth that wasn’t so forgotten if it was digging its roots deep into the earth of Millennium Park.
“Fucking great,” Patrick said.
“Careful,” Eir warned, her hand hovering over the barely closed wound in Thor’s back. “I am not done healing you.”
Thor grunted as he sat up. “I am well enough to fight. Thank you, Eir.”
Patrick eyed Thor’s blood-soaked button-down that had been white before Loki stabbed him in the back. “Sure you are.”
A wound from a magical spear wasn’t enough to keep a god down. Thor got to his feet, stripped out of his suit jacket, and ripped the remains of his dress shirt off. Blood-streaked skin came into sight, the wound from the spear a slash of pink on his chest and back.
Thor punched the air in front of him, and ball lightning erupted around his hand. Thunder ripped through Au Hall, the crackling burn of electricity so close it would’ve singed Patrick’s hair if he hadn’t scrambled to put some distance between them. Thor pulled Mjölnir from the ball lightning, gripping the hammer with bloodied fingers.
Thor’s blue eyes were washed out to white, electricity crackling around him as he stared at the beacon that was the world tree. “They have taken the tithes.”
“You gods need to get your shit together.” Patrick stood and shoved his dagger into its sheath before lowering his shield. He flinched away from the icy, howling wind that slammed into them now that he’d drawn down his defensive magic. “Chicago wouldn’t be under attack if Odin hadn’t been so fucking greedy.”
“We have a right to live.”
“Not at the expense of our world.”
“This is how any story is made. By the destruction of another.”
“Yeah? You and the rest of the goddamn Æsir can go fuck yourselves.”
Thor didn’t respond to that. He merely turned his back on Patrick and ran for the edge of the building, throwing himself off it. Mjölnir was an arc of brightness that followed him down to the street. Fenrir snapped his teeth before racing after the god of thunder, the fall to earth easy to overcome for the wolf god. Patrick had to bite his tongue to keep from calling Jono back—because that wasn’t Jono in control.
“What are we going to do?” Wade asked.
Patrick grabbed him by the arm and hauled him toward the stairs. “I’m going to fight. You in or not?”
“What kind of dumbass question is that?”
“It’s a question, because I’m not going to force you to fight.”
Wade gave him a stubborn look before beating Patrick down the stairs. “I’m not letting you fight alone. Pack doesn’t do that.”
Wade used his strength to shove people aside without apology, making them a path to the exit. Patrick saw jewelry, money clips, and a couple of wallets find their way into Wade’s jacket pockets. He didn’t have the time to argue with Wade about stealing when they were heading into a fight. It wasn’t like he could pickpocket everyone at the fundraiser.
The door they’d come in was a bottleneck. Patrick grabbed Wade by the collar of his jacket and hauled him toward the broken windows. The shades had been shredded, and people were lying on the floor or slumped over tables with shards of glass protruding from their bodies.
They couldn’t stop to help and kept running. Patrick and Wade vaulted the bottom of the window frame, and Patrick nearly lost his footing when he landed on the other side. His boots skidded over icy, snow-covered cement, but he managed to stay upright.
The deep revving of a motorcycle cut through the howling wind as a lone headlight shone through the dark. The motorcycle drove down the sidewalk on its own,
