At her side, Dog let out a long, low growl, and though none of the women had spoken a word, Poppy sensed a shift in the air. She had the strange thought that there was more to them than just their bodies … that while their forms stood waiting, their spirits pushed at some invisible boundary, testing whether it could hold them back.
Still the women didn’t speak. Poppy could see the corded muscles of their necks, tight with strain.
Poppy’s pulse fluttered in answer, but she knew—her instinct focused on the predators watching her—that showing fear now would be a fatal error. These women were just as dangerous as any other monster of the wood.
“Are you the Valkyries?” Poppy asked, lifting her chin.
Nula leaned to whisper in her ear. “They’re supposed to be very proud—flatter them, if you can.”
The woman at the front stepped forward and looked straight down at Poppy, and seemed to grow taller. Mack tried to tug her back, but Poppy resisted and lifted her eyes to meet the woman’s face.
“I am Brynne, general of these great battle maidens. We wait for war. Why have you sought us out? You are no warrior.”
Poppy almost argued with her, but bit the inside of her cheek instead. Flatter them, Nula had said. “Great General!” she began, trying to sound as formal as Brynne had. “I have longed all my life to learn the ways of the Valkyrie battle maidens.”
This wasn’t precisely true. Still, Poppy wanted to know everything about the Grimwood, and they were in it.
Brynne gave a derisive snort. “Only the greatest of gods can make a battle maiden. You are foolish to pursue it.”
“Is it true that you choose who lives and dies in battle?”
Brynne threw back her shoulders. “It is true. When we attend a battle, we choose those who have the greatest fire within them—the ones who are fiercest as they face death. Only they are worthy to dine with us in the great halls of the dead.”
“Wow—that’s really cool. You must be … you must be really strong, and brave … and … and wise.”
“Yes.”
Mack nudged her.
Too much? Not enough? Poppy wasn’t sure. “I bet you’re fast as lightning,” she added.
The compliment was like a match.
Suddenly all seven of the Valkyries burst into action—breaking into pairs and swinging their swords at each other, so they sparked and clanged.
“Yes,” said Brynne, striking a pose with her sword. “We are beauty and dread.” She struck another pose. “We are terror and deliverance.” She lunged into a third pose, her sword arm cast like a scorpion’s sting, over her head. “We are redemption and glory and—”
“And you’re singers?”
The Valkyries froze. Brynne stood, stepping closer, and this time Mack did drag Poppy back. Dog moved to block the Valkyrie general, baring their teeth.
A cold wind whipped through Poppy and she shivered. “I—I mean, I’ve heard you sing?”
“What do you know of the song of the Valkyries?”
Poppy swallowed. “Only that it’s the most glorious … most mind-numbing.”
“Stunning,” Mack chimed in.
“The finest of all songs,” Nula squeaked.
“Hmph,” Brynne huffed, turning her attention to Dog. Poppy held out her hand—as if she could have stopped a Valkyrie—as Brynne crouched to look each of Dog’s heads in the face. Dog stilled, and Poppy tasted bile. If the Valkyrie did something to Dog, Poppy wasn’t sure what she would do … but it would take more than Mack to stop her.
“This is a fine beast. From whence do they hail?”
Poppy drew back. “Uhh … They hail from here. From the Grimwood.”
Brynne rested one hand on Brutus’s head. Eta let out a whine.
“They do not. Their heritage is in another place—as it is for all in this place you call the Grimwood. Do you know their heritage or do you not?”
“Dog was born in the Grimwood.”
Brynne rose. “It matters not. You will be honored to gift them to us.”
Poppy crossed her arms. “No. I will not be honored. I will never part with them.”
Brynne drew herself to her full height, glowering down at Poppy.
“I will be honored to hear your song.”
Brynne’s eyes flashed. “You wish to hear our battle song?”
The Valkyries behind her seemed almost to rustle, like reeds on a riverbank.
“I do.”
“The song we sing to call out the souls of our chosen. The song we sing as we head into battle, to declare to all those about to spill blood that their lives are ours to cull—and ours to judge? That is the song you wish to hear?”
Poppy’s mouth had gone dry.
From inside her pocket, Nula pushed up the small blue bottle, and Poppy took it, twisting the cork in her fingers. With her other hand, she reached out and pushed Mack backward two steps, to bring them closer to the bird. Maybe they could jump on and—
Brynne lifted her hand and with a cry, the bird lifted off without them, shooting straight up into the blue sky, rising higher and higher.
There was a sucking sound—as if someone had taken a huge inhale and pulled all the air from around them. Brynne and the other Valkyries opened their mouths, and there was a bright, loud ringing sound.
Poppy didn’t wait to figure out what was happening. She yanked open the bottle and pointed it at the Valkyrie general.
There was a pop and a whoosh. The air was back again. Poppy replaced the cork and shoved the bottle deep into the front pocket of her jeans. She had done it—she had captured the Valkyries’ song.
Everything was still for a moment. She could see Brynne’s face fully now—and all the others’ as well, like she hadn’t been able to before. It was as though the sun had disappeared behind a cloud, though there wasn’t a single one in the sky.
Brynne shook her head as if shaking off sleep and glanced over either shoulder at
