Son of Thunder (4 page)

And the imp did it
on purpose
, just to get on his nerves, under his skin. She damn well enjoyed doing it, too. It made him want to lean her over the table and take her from behind.

Stop it, Rune. You’re not winning this one…yet
.

He cleared his throat and answered her question. “Not often. Maybe a dozen times a year on hunts. I’ve helped law enforcement before, but not to the degree I’m helping you.” His desire dropped a notch as flashes of his best friend lit his mind. “Most likely because it’s such a personal case, to the both of us.”

He’d learned how to use much of the modern technology that he’d watched go from idea to fruition from Asgard. The humans of Earth had made more technological advancement in just the last century than the other eight worlds had in a thousand years.

“That probably has a lot to do with it,” she agreed. “
Everything
is different when the hunt becomes personal.”

This time it was his eyebrows that rose a notch. That was definitely aimed more at him than the godkin. “Really?”

“Yes.” She licked her ice cream again, swirling her tongue around the top, keeping her eyes on his.

A shot of heat blasted through him faster than he could combat it.

“You know,” he said, wanting to give her a taste of that heat she’d caused, “I bet this ice cream would taste even better if I was eating it off your skin.”

She stopped mid-lick, eyes slightly widening.

“One long, hot lick against the coolness of the treat…” He trailed off, watching her eyes narrow.

“You’re an ass,” she retorted.

He chuckled, enjoying this particular game. “You enjoy looking at this ass. I certainly appreciate yours.”

She rolled her eyes. “Shut up, Viking.”

“Just want to put that thought—”

“I said, shut up.” A trickle of ice cream dropped on her arm and left a trail.

As she wiped it off, he stood and walked to her side of the table. “You missed some.”

He leaned toward her and slowly licked the hint of ice cream that was on the corner of her mouth. A soft breath escaped her, and he saw the pulse in her neck jump.

Those sea-blue eyes stared at him for a moment.

“What?” he finally asked.

“I hate you,” she replied and then returned to her ice cream.

Laughing, he did the same. “You do not.”

“Oh, I’m pretty certain I do.”

“I’m pretty certain you don’t, Valkyrie.”

“Whatever,” she muttered.

He bit into his cone, chewed, and swallowed. “Whatever,” he mocked.

That got a laugh out of her. “Finish your ice cream—we don’t have forever, you know.”

That
he certainly did know, but he was damn well going to enjoy the short break from being cooped up in a car. Before long, they were back on the road, a comfortable silence settling over them as she drove.

He stared out the window at the beautiful green scenery, the splashes of reds, oranges, and yellows mixing in to create an array of color that was unlike the places of Earth he’d visited in the past.

“We’re getting close to the lake,” she said. “Can you feel anything?”

“Not yet, but if he’s been here at all, I’ll be able to feel traces. Even if he’s not here at this time.”

Tracking godkin with limited power was a test of his abilities, but he welcomed it now that he could feel the hunt in the air. A soft laugh came from Liv, and he glanced at her. “What?”

“You. You really love the hunt, don’t you? Not the kill, not the catch, but the
hunt
. It sets your blood on fire.”

“As it does yours, beautiful flame. And you also set my blood on fire.”

Her mouth parted slightly, and she stared at him before turning her attention back to the road.

“On a scale of one to ten, how badly do you want to get home?” she asked, and he was fairly certain she was purposefully ignoring his last remark.

“You haven’t spoken much about it, other than that you must redeem yourself in order to be let back in.”

He thought about the question, trying to find the right words. If this was her way of trying to get to know him better, he didn’t want to ruin it by flat-out telling her he’d rather not speak of the matter. But she’d shared why they had stopped at the store for the ice cream, and she deserved at least a glimpse into the reason he needed to get home.

“Honestly, my desire to get home has more to do with my brother than missing Asgard. I’ve been away several times in my life—adventures and battles. My urgency is because of Reign. His anger is too great, and I’m worried about what he’ll do next.”

“And if he knows that one of his children is on a killing spree, and is helping to hide him…” She trailed off, but didn’t have to finish for him to know what she was thinking.

Reign would go on a killing spree to keep that particular secret from Odin.

“And now we’re hunting his son,” she added.

The damage his brother could do to the loved ones in his life chilled his blood. If his brother wasn’t under close supervision—every minute of every day—Rune might return home and find more friends and loved ones slaughtered. Reign could cause severe chaos before their father or Thor found and stopped him—Rune could not bear the thought of it. Images of the carnage his brother had caused in the past, in and out of battle, flooded his mind, and the need to get home tripled.

He tamped it down enough that it didn’t show on his face. Liv would know immediately that something was terribly wrong, and he couldn’t afford for her to question his motives now. Not when they were at the start of the hunt.

“I’m not going to ask for details, if that’s why you’re so guarded.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “No?”

She gave him a sad smile. “No. Not right now, anyway. I don’t need to know at this time, so you can keep hiding whatever you’re concealing about your brother.”

He’d thought for sure she’d grill him, since it was Reign’s son they were chasing. Perhaps he’d underestimated her in some way?

“If you ask me, considering the circumstances, you didn’t deserve to be banished from Asgard.” She sighed. “Which lends weight to my theory that Odin knows about our godkin.”

He agreed, but he
really
wished he didn’t. Based on the facts laid before him, he had no choice but to accept that Odin knew of this godkin and had chosen to let the killing go unchecked. Looking out the window, he couldn’t help but wonder how many more was the All-Father allowing to run free of punishment?

“What are you thinking?” she asked, a hint of concern in her tone. “You’ve gone awful quiet.”

He sighed, looking over at her. “I quite agree that my punishment is unfair. What my brother did was far worse than the beating I gave him.”

“And Odin?”

“Odin doesn’t share his reasons, but I believe you’re right about him knowing. This is a betrayal I cannot forgive. Not with the lives taken, including the murder of my close friend.”

“This close friend, was it a lover?”

He glanced at her, but her eyes stayed on the road. “No, but she was… I suppose she was to me what Soosie was to you.”

She didn’t reply, and he didn’t miss the brief pain that pinched the edges of her eyes.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” she said, her voice soft. “If she was indeed your Soosie, then she took a piece of you with her into death.”

“Yes, she did.”

He’d refrained from asking before, but now might be the time. “Do you blame yourself for her death?”

She was silent for so long he thought she wouldn’t answer. “Yes.”

They fell into silence again, but he couldn’t regret the question. Knowing they shared a trauma, that they were connected in more than a sexual and professional way, somehow helped his own pain.

“I blame myself for…my friend’s death as well,” he said.

“You can’t say her name yet. That’s okay. I couldn’t say Soosie’s name out loud for weeks after her death. Saying her name made it more real.”

His heart ached at the admission, one she did not have to give, but did simply because she knew what he was going through.

“I’ve lost many in my life, but her death takes a toll I am unaccustomed to. Thank you for your words, Liv.”

“Of course.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Something else is bothering you about this—I felt it in your silence, in the way you tensed when speaking of Odin. What is it?”

He smiled to himself. She was certainly perceptive.

“Rune?”

“I was asking myself if there were other godkin that Odin has let run free. If that is the case…” He trailed off, trying to find the right wording. “Odin, and ninety-nine percent of the gods in Asgard, desire to stay on the good side of humans. If there are more young godkin being allowed to kill unchecked, then eventually humans will figure that out. One of them will slip up, one of them will kill the wrong person and cause a national uproar to hunt the killer down. And when that moment comes, when humans realize that godkin have been allowed to hunt them, relations between us will end. Instead of friends, we will become enemies.”

“And I take it that the gods will lose something when that happens?”

She had figured out something else connected humans and gods—he heard it in her matter-of-fact tone. But he couldn’t confirm it for her without repercussions from Odin.

“Yes, we will.”

“So gods do get something from staying in our good graces—the power from those who worship.”

He raised an eyebrow.

She shrugged. “There are hundreds of myths and legends on Earth that state that a god’s power fades if humans stop worshipping him or her. Or, that the god loses power over the humans who don’t worship them. Don’t you know that?”

“Yes,” he said carefully, waiting to see where she took the conversation.

“Though everyone on this planet knows that gods and godkin exist, not all of us worship the ground you walk on.”

He almost snorted at that last remark.
She
certainly didn’t worship the ground gods walked on, and he didn’t fault her that, as she’d seen exactly what his people and their offspring could do to the innocent.

“I will concede that we indeed get something from keeping in your ‘good graces,’ but the connection is far more complicated and has many tangled webs. I do not have permission to share more with you.”

“Without getting too in depth, what would the loss mean for the gods?”

He thought a moment on the question, weighing his words. There would be enormous discord in Asgard if human worship turned to hate. “I will tell you this, no god in their right mind wants humans to turn their backs on us.”

The one percent in Asgard who did, wanted it solely for the chance to swoop in and gather the power that Odin and those aligned with him would lose. And that would be the start of Ragnarok, which would be the fall not only of Earth, but also Asgard and the worlds connected to it.

“I trust you on that, Viking.”

Relief rocked through him. She may not trust him completely in personal matters, but at least she did when it came to the hunt.

“We really need to find this godkin,” she said quietly, the bite gone from her tone. “Before his actions, before
Odin’s
actions, end up sparking the end of the damn world.”

She must know something about Ragnarok.
At least a dozen versions of Ragnarok and the end of the world existed on Earth, and in truth, there were many more variations on Asgard. All it would take was one wrong step, one decision by the wrong god—no matter the god who made it—and no one would be able to stop the end from coming. The threat always loomed in the back of the minds of the gods, and drove decisions. Some wanted it, most would do anything to avoid it, which made Odin’s actions regarding the godkin they were hunting all the more frustrating.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence the rest of the way to the lake. He vowed to himself then and there that he would stand by Liv in this search, and not simply use her as a means to an end.

“Here we are,” she said. “Welcome to beautiful Lake Memphremagog.”

The tip of the lake caught his eye, and she was right—the mix of green trees and dark blue water certainly was beautiful. He rolled down his window and inhaled, smelling the fresh air. Early autumn visitors lined parts of the shoreline, and boats dotted the sparkling water.

If those visitors were here to relax, they’d chosen the right place.

Liv cleared her throat and nodded toward the lake. “That’s South Bay. Popular part of the lake. Would our godkin hunt in a crowded place? Or would he go for isolated?”

“If he is like the rest of us, people-watching is a pastime he enjoys. He may not have stalked these people, but he would’ve stopped and watched them.”

Humans fascinated the gods, and not just because they were important to the Asgardian race. Humankind tended to be quirky and amusing. Not that he’d tell her that—she’d probably shoot him for it.

As the road ended, she parked the car, shutting it off. “Can you feel any trace of the godkin?”

He unbuckled his seat belt and stepped out of the car. Opening up the power he still had was like the opening of a theater curtain, and revealing the stage to the audience. What he was looking for was the subtle vibrations in the air that would tell him if their killer had indeed been in the area. The vibrations resembled the color of white diamonds, glowing in the air, glittering for another god to see.

After a few minutes of searching, he turned to her. She was standing just outside the car, leaning against the door. “There’s no trace of him here.”

Disappointment swept her face. “Okay. Come on. We’re not too far away from the town we’re staying in. We can check into the hotel then head out again.”

He gave her quick smile. “What? No sightseeing?”

She returned that smile with a frown. “I’m not here to sightsee.”

Apparently she wasn’t in the mood for teasing, and he couldn’t blame her. Six years of looking for her friend’s killer and her ally started teasing about sightseeing?
Smooth one, idiot.

She was silent for the rest of the ride. They arrived in the town of Newport not long after stopping by South Bay. The town was quaint, nestled around the lake, and their hotel was right on the water’s edge.