Loki's Wolves (4 page)

He sat on the stoop, shoved his feet into his boots, grabbed the sack and crowbar Kris had left out for him, and started off toward Sarek Park. If Fen didn’t take care of what he owed the Raiders, there would be consequences. The Raiders—
wulfenkind
packs—lived a life of thievery and scavenging, roaming from camp to camp, barely a minute
ahead of the law. They could join packs once they shifted, but from birth they owed dues. Usually their parents paid. If not, the pack held a running tally of dues. Fen, like every Brekke, had to either pay dues to the local pack of his age group, join it, or—once he was old enough—go lone-wolf. For now, he’d opted to pay dues—his
and
Laurie’s. He wasn’t going to offer obedience to anyone simply because they were the best fighter.

Laurie didn’t even know a lot about the ways things worked. She didn’t know what he was or what she might be—because she didn’t know about their ancestor Loki. So she had no idea that Fen was sometimes a wolf. Unless Laurie changed, they didn’t need to tell her.

Her dad, Fen’s uncle Stig, didn’t think she’d change. Her mother wasn’t
wulfenkind
, so she might turn out to be just a regular person. If she didn’t change, she didn’t need to know. Fen wished he could tell her, wished she would be a wolf, too… almost as much as he hoped, for her sake, that she wouldn’t be one. For now, he agreed to pay her dues to the
wulfenkind
during the transition window. Usually
wulfenkind
parents did that, but Uncle Stig was a lone wolf, so Fen had taken on the responsibility. It’s what he’d have done if Laurie were
really
his sister, not just his cousin. It meant double payments, but he could handle it. Once they knew if she’d change, she’d take over her own payments, join a pack, or go lone-wolf like Uncle Stig. Laurie was even less likely
than Fen to join, so if she changed, Fen figured he’d either help her with payments or they’d go lone-wolf together. The problem with being a lone wolf was that you couldn’t stay in any one territory too long. He couldn’t imagine going lone-wolf without her, and he certainly wasn’t joining the Raiders.

For now, that left him with dues, and for reasons he didn’t want to know, the Raiders said the old shield was payment enough for both of them. The only weird thing was that the wolf in charge of their age pack, Skull, had said Laurie had to be involved at least a little—and she had been. Now Fen just had to finish the job.

His feet hurt from too many trips between Kris’ trailer and the park, but there were rules about running around Blackwell as a wolf, so he went as he was. Of course, even if he was allowed to shift to wolf, it would cause other problems.
What would I do? Bite it free?
He smiled a little at that image, and he ran the rest of the way to Sarek Park.

This late—
or early, really
—the patrol cars weren’t passing by as often. He took the crowbar Kris had given him and applied it to the side of the ship with as much force as he could. The shield was already loose. It had to be that specific one, the third shield from the front with the weird designs on it. Viking symbols, Fen guessed. He didn’t know why it had to be that shield; he didn’t really care. He just put his strength into prying it free.

Fifteen minutes and several splinters later, Fen was starting
to really worry. “Come on; come on.” He gave another good tug, and the final bolt popped free. The shield dropped to the ground with a loud crash.

Fen jumped over the side of the longship, landing in a crouch with one hand flat on the ground, and grabbed the shield.

As he did so, a big gray wolf padded into the park. He was as large as a full-grown wolf, but even before he shook off his fur and stood on two feet, Fen knew who it was.

Skull grinned at him and said, “Not bad.”

Skull was only a few years older than Fen, but he was a lot scarier than any of the guys at school. He had scars on his arms, and right now, he also had a red scrape on his cheek that kept company with a number of purple and yellow bruises. He wasn’t skinny, but he didn’t have any fat on him. Skull was nothing but muscle, scars, and attitude.

“Where’s Laurie?”

“Not here.” Fen shoved the shield into the bag he’d brought with him and held it out to Skull. “She helped the first time I tried to get it, but she doesn’t need to meet
you.
”

Skull didn’t take the bag Fen held out. “You can carry it.”

He turned his back and walked away without seeing if Fen had obeyed. Of course, they both knew that he could follow or fight Skull—and that fighting would either result in being hurt pretty bad or being in charge of this pack of
wulfenkind.
Winning a fight with the lead wolf meant
replacing him. As much as Fen disliked Skull, he didn’t know that he could beat the older wolf, and even if he could, he didn’t want it badly enough to risk getting saddled with the responsibility of a pack.

They walked at least five miles, so on top of the lack of sleep, Fen was dead on his feet by the time they reached the camp. Small groups of
wulfenkind
looked up with interest.

Skull’s twin sister, Hattie, walked over and held out a chunk of some sort of meat on a stick, probably elk from the smell. “Want a bite?” She took a bite out of it, chewed, and swallowed. “It’s safe.”

He accepted it with a nod. He wasn’t as constantly ravenous as the older
wulfenkind
got, because he didn’t change forms as much yet, but he was starting to notice a change.

Skull nodded at Hattie, and she put her fingers to her lips and whistled. Once everyone looked at her, she signaled different people and then different directions. “Check the perimeter.”

Of the almost two dozen boys and girls there, half—in two groups of six—left. Fen watched with appreciation. They were a well-organized, obedient pack. The camp was impressive, too. Gear was in small piles, firewood was stacked tidily, and sleeping bags were rolled and stowed. Camp could break and depart in moments.

“You could stay with us,” Hattie offered. Her attention had both flattered and frightened him for years. She was one
of the strongest
wulfenkind
he’d met, but she was also weird and kind of mean. When they were ten, he’d watched her kill several squirrels by biting their throats. If she’d been in wolf form at the time, he might not have found it so gross. She hadn’t been, though.

“Here.” He pulled the shield out of the sack and tossed it to her. He didn’t expect it to hit her, but he might have hoped a little. Unlike fighting Skull, there were no downsides to fighting Hattie.

She caught the shield in midair. “You brought me a present?”

Skull laughed.

Fen shifted his feet and said, “No. It’s the dues for me
and
Laurie.”

Skull clamped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, but he told his sister, “Leave Fen alone. You’re scaring him.”

Although he was trying not to get into too much trouble with Skull, Fen couldn’t ignore the insult. “I’m not sc—”

“You belong with us, Fen,” Skull interrupted. “You know something big is coming. We need it to come. We’ll make it come.”

Hattie laid the shield down on a piece of animal hide that one of the younger wolves had dragged over to her. She squatted beside it and looked over her shoulder at Fen. “This wood was from the bog. This will be used in the final fight.”

“The
what
?”

“Ragnarök,” Skull said reverently.

“Ragnarök?” Fen repeated. He shook his head. It was one thing to remember the old stories, to know where they came from, but it was another to think that the end of the world was coming.

“The prophecy is true,” Skull said. “The final battle will change everything. It will be the sons—”

“And
daughters
,” Hattie interjected with a growl.

Skull continued, without even glancing at his sister, “The children of Loki will rise up; the monsters will wake. We’ll rule the world, and everyone will tithe to us. We’ll reign over the world like kings.”

And as much as Fen thought they were a little crazy before, right then he knew that they were far beyond simply crazy. The whole there-used-to-be-gods bit was true, but the gods were stupid. They were all dead. If the gods were dead, how could there be a final battle? It didn’t make any sense. Of course, that didn’t mean Fen felt like getting into it with Skull and Hattie. He tried to sound a little less disdainful than he felt as he said, “Right. Gods and monsters will fight, and a new world will be born. You’ll be in charge. Sure thing.”

Hattie stood and instantly arranged her body for a fight. “You doubt it?”

Ignoring her, Fen tossed the stick with the rest of the meat toward the fire and pointed at the shield. “I stole the
shield. I carried it to your camp. We’re square. My dues and Laurie’s are paid. Whatever you do with it now is your business.”

“We just need one more thing,” Hattie started.

Fen looked from Skull to Hattie and back again. It was one thing not to start trouble with them; it was another thing to be their errand boy. “I
paid
,” Fen said. “Those are the rules. I paid, and now I’m done.”

Skull punched him.

Fen staggered. The whole side of his face hurt, and he knew he’d have a black eye for school.
Great. Just great.
He stepped backward.

Hattie walked over to stand beside Skull. Behind her, Fen could see other members of the pack watching. There would be no help here. They followed orders. They protected their pack and worked toward the goals of the pack.

“The final fight is coming. That changes things,” Hattie added.

The temper Fen was trying to keep in check flared. “Rules are rules, so—”

“
You
can help, or we can go to Laurie, and
she
can help,” Skull said. “The monsters will come, and they will fight alongside our champion. We need to be ready.”

There was no way Fen was letting them near Laurie, especially after the things they’d just said. He lowered his gaze as meekly as he could. “What do you want?”

“A Thorsen. The youngest one,” Skull said.

Every Brekke knew there were things the Raiders did, things that were better not asked about. That didn’t mean that Fen liked the idea of helping them get at anyone he knew—even someone he disliked. Turning a person over to them was wrong.

“Why?” Fen asked, hoping that they would say something that didn’t involve hurting Thorsen.

Hattie sighed. “Because he’s
their
champion in the final fight.”

“Right,” Fen drawled. “You need to stop a kid from fighting in Ragnarök. What are you going to do, really?”

Skull and Hattie exchanged a look, and then Skull stepped forward and slung an arm around Fen. “The boss said to deliver the kid. We aren’t dumb enough to ask what for, but”—he paused and grinned—“if you want to ask, we can deliver you and Laurie, too.”

“No,” Fen said carefully. “I’ll get him.”

Skull squeezed Fen’s shoulder tighter, painfully so, and said, “Good pup.”

M
att lay in bed. It’d been a day since he’d unleashed Thor’s Hammer. Fen hadn’t said anything to anyone. Laurie hadn’t, either. Matt wanted to believe that meant they were going to forget it, but he couldn’t help thinking they were only waiting for the right moment. Then they’d tell everyone how he’d used something like a flash-bang and knocked Fen right off his feet, and Matt’s parents—and every other Thorsen in town—would know exactly what had happened. Matt had broken the rules: he’d used Thor’s Hammer.

Thor’s Hammer was the only magical power the Thorsens still had. Sure, they were usually bigger than other people,
and stronger, too, but that wasn’t magic. The old books said there used to be other powers, like control over weather, but that was long gone. They were left with the Hammer, which for everyone else was like an invisible punch that they could throw whenever they wanted. Only Matt got the special-effects package—the flash and the bang. And only Matt wasn’t able to control when it went off.

His grandfather had tried giving him different amulets, but it didn’t fix anything. His parents were right: it wasn’t the amulet messing up—it was him. The power was in the descendants of Thor themselves—the amulet was just a… Matt struggled for the word his family used. Conduit. That was it. The necklace was a conduit that allowed the power to work. Which should mean the solution was easy: take off the necklace. Except a Thorsen couldn’t do that for long before he got sick. Matt could remove his in the boxing ring, luckily, but that was it.