Her Viking Wolves: 50 Loving States, Michigan (11 page)

A
text message
arrives less than two hours after my conversation with Janelle. It’s from Rafesson, of all people.

Come to Grandpa’s study.

I curse under my breath. It’s been three days since Uncle Ford told me I needed to put my ass on a plane back to Detroit already. I should have known he and Dad would sic Uncle Tikaani and Aunt Wilma on me sooner rather than later, especially now that all the holiday festivities are finished. And I’m not surprised they used their oldest grandson to send my summons—like Clyde, he was probably being groomed from an early age to head up his own state and make his grandparents proud.

Say what you want about those two, they’re a formidable team. Uncle Tikaani is a shark disguised as a cuddly teddy bear. And as many airs as Aunt Wilma likes to put on for her kingdom, I know first hand how she grew up. Raised by an MC gangster who barely pretended to also be an Alpha King, bound by the laws of the Lupine Council. Of course she isn’t going to let her niece hide out in a guestroom forever.

I’ll be down in fifteen, I type back with a sigh. At least it’s good timing. I just sent the concept presentation off to Iggle for one last review before it goes to the Korean firm.

Knowing how much stock Uncle Tikaani and Aunt Wilma put in appearances, I take the time to hop in the shower and throw on a pair of jeans and a sweater without so much as a Mario brother on it—my version of dressing up.

“Hey, Olafr,” I start to say as I exit the room, already bending to give him a friendly pat before I go downstairs for what’s sure to be a very awkward meeting with Uncle Tikaani.

But I stop short when I see Olafr isn’t standing sentry outside my door. In fact, he’s nowhere in sight.

Strange
, I think with a frown. He’s more or less parked himself there permanently since we returned to the house that night after he turned wolf. But I guess wolves need pee breaks, too. And it’s not like he can use the guest bathroom.

I trudge down to the second floor, wishing I’d at least had a few moments with him to zen out before this meeting.

But when I open the door to Uncle Tikaani’s study, I see Alisha and some other wolf I don’t know. No sign of Aunt Wilma or her mate.
Huh
.

Then FJ stands up from behind Uncle Tikaani’s yellow cedar desk, and I have to blink a few times. Because he no longer looks anything like the wolf I dodged this morning.

The “Thug King” sweatshirt he was wearing at breakfast—one I vaguely recognized as belonging to Mag—is gone. Now he’s wearing a pair of suit pants with a tailored shirt that, judging by its size and quality, must have been loaned to him by Rafe. Mag’s more a leather jacket kind of guy and I’m not even sure Grady owns a suit.

It’s a very clean and sophisticated look, especial in comparison to the sweats I saw him in last. However, his long curly hair remains tied on top of his head in that messy man-bun, and his partially braided beard is still in full effect. So he looks more than a little incongruous. Like a walking mash-up—Hipster Viking Loves Prada.

Regardless, it somehow works. FJ looks completely at home, like he’s totally in charge of this meeting. So I’m guessing it was him and not Aunt Wilma who had Rafesson text me.

And then another mystery is solved: where Olafr got off to. He’s standing near the desk, eyes completely focused on me.

“Sorry,” I mumble, my own eyes hitting the Berber carpet under my feet.

But when I try to back out of the room, FJ says, “I would have you stay,
Varra
.” He extends a hand, indicating the empty couch in the corner of the room.

“I can wait in the hall,” I reply, not wanting to interrupt. I know a tense meeting when I see it.

“I would have you stay,” FJ repeats. “This discussion regards our kingdom, so it concerns you as well.”

I’m about to try to use confrontation skills I just don’t have to explain that his kingdom will
never
be my kingdom. But then to my surprise, I notice Alisha nodding from her seat on the couch.

“Have a seat, Tee,” she says. “Trust me. You are going to want to hear this.”

Okay
… I move across the room and take a seat on the tufted brown couch.

“This is an old friend of mine from my UAJ days, Matt Kreuk. He’s flown up here from Juneau after helping me research FJ’s story about the great battle that took place in his village. And, well… it would seem I owe you an apology for that argument we got into over Christmas dinner. It looks like you were right and I was wrong.”

Now I raise my eyebrows, my eyes going wide with disbelief. Not just because I’ve never in my life heard Alisha says the words, “you were right, and I was wrong,” and I’m a little afraid the earth is about to spin off its axis. But also because the argument we’d gotten into involved Iggle and me putting dragons in
Viking Shifters
, which, according to Alisha, was an “irresponsible representation of Viking shifter history.”

“Apparently I’ll be issuing a lot of apologies when I return to my classes next week.”

“
Hold up,” I say, glancing at FJ. “Are you trying to tell me…?”

Yes, that’s exactly what she is trying to say. I listen in true wonderment as Alisha and Matt explain how they sent a blood sample from FJ’s sword down to the UAJ lab for testing. Apparently, the lab results came back with a significant number of markers for reptile DNA. That, along with FJ’s description of the fight and an obscure reference to “a great battle between the North Wolves and fearsome serpents” that Matt discovered in a copy of their University’s Norwegian Viking files, has led Alisha to conclude—with a seriously begrudging look toward me—that the great enemy FJ and his people fought were in fact dragon shifters

By the time they get done, I’m all the way out of my seat.

“Tell me I’m not hearing this right,” I say to FJ. “You do
not
have dragons waiting for you when you get back to Old Norway.”

FJ stands up himself, his face weary. “I’m afraid we do,
Varra
.”

“Oh, my God!” I say. Then I burst out laughing.

Only to stop when I’m met with stony silence.

Alisha and Matt stare at me, and FJ looks like he’s chewing on glass as he asks, “You find humor in the fact that my land—our land—has been beset by these monstrous serpents?”

Even Olafr is crooking his shaggy head at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“No, no. I don’t think it’s at all funny,” I quickly assure them both. “Laughing at the worst times—it’s a nervous tic of mine. That is truly some horrific shit. But…”

I raise my hands and confess, “As a hardcore gamer geek, I have to admit I’m kind of freaking out that you’ve not only met, but actually
fought
real life
dragon
shifters. And I’m also wondering if it’s too soon to ask for details. Like, should I put a
Dragon Shifters
game on the five-year slate, now that I know they actually exist? It’d probably sell. I mean, I used to love dragons when I was in high school. I even collected dragon figurines. I still have a few of them on the mantelpiece back in my bedroom in Detroit. One’s got these two real emeralds for eyes and…”

I trail off when I see my audience looking at me like I’m speaking Mandarin.

“Uh, sorry,” I say again. “Some people stick their feet in their mouths and shut up. I keep going. But I really am sorry about your dragon shifter situation. Seriously.”

Another awkward pause, followed by a lot of uncomfortable silence. Then a, “We should go…” from Alisha.

“No, don’t go,” I say. “I’m sorry. I’m just making this whole situation worse. I’m the one who should leave.”

“No, you will stay,
Varra
. I have much to say to you now that I have true knowledge of the enemy we face.”

Then before I can protest, Alisha says to FJ, “I’ll put in a call to the Norway pack as soon as it’s not after business hours over there. Of course, it would be better for me to fly over to Norway to meet with them. That way I could speak with their pack’s historian and read over the original text myself. But unfortunately, classes are starting up in Colorado next week and I can’t get out there until spring break. However, if the passage Matt found is even partially true, that makes your mission to return and defeat this enemy even more critical than we originally thought. In fact, your past might be the key to the future of our species. And FJ…”

Alisha comes out of professor mode and leans across the desk to cover his large hand with hers. “We’ve got your back. Rafe wants to protect your mother and the rest of your family as much as we do. He’s in talks with the Lupine Council now, trying to figure out what kind of resources we can throw at this situation.”

Another grim nod. “Yes, I understand, Aunt Alisha, and I would meet with your fenrir as soon as he knows his Council’s mind.”

FJ sounds so authoritative that only his old world accent keeps me from believing he didn’t go to a top tier B-school like Rafe.

I listen to him thank and then dismiss Matt and Alisha, telling them to report back to him as soon as they find out anything further, “No matter the hour.”

Both Alisha and Matt agree, and that pretty much brings the somewhat surreal meeting to an end.

“Seriously, I should go, too…” I say after they’re gone.

It’s not like I’d be much help with their dragon problem. And at this point I’m totally holding myself back from asking him to put on a green screen suit and re-enact the fight so I can motion capture it for
Viking Shifters
2. I mean DRAGONS! I can still barely wrap my mind around that.

But FJ isn’t interested in me leaving. “No,
Varra
, I would have you sit,” he says, nodding toward the couch I abandoned when I got too excited about his dragon story.

“Please,” he adds when I hesitate. “I have been told of your nighttime work, and judging from your strange, ill-considered speech you seem…hag-ridden in the way of warriors who have gone without sleep for too long. It troubles me to see you standing when you should be at rest.”

Although I have no clue what “hag-ridden” means, I’m really tempted to do as he says. He’s right about me not having slept much the last few nights. I’m fairly sure all the Mountain Dew and Red Bull in my system is the only thing keeping me awake right now, and if I sit down without a computer screen in front of my face, I’ll end up slumped over as soon as my butt hits the chair.

However, at the best of times, I have trouble maintaining eye contact. This is clearly not the best of times, and it’s so much harder to avoid eye contact with someone when you’re seated directly across from them.

I eye the sofa nervously, and as if reading my worries, FJ says, “Shall we, as my mother says when she wishes to move her body without any purpose but to be in the open, ‘take a walk?’”

“Yes! Let’s take a walk!” I agree, grabbing on to that lifeline with my eyes glued to the expensive Berber carpet at my feet. “I was planning to go into town to get some more Mountain Dew and Red Bull, anyway.” Plus, it is so much easier to avoid eye contact when you’re walking side by side.

So down the stairs and into the family room we go. I’m greeted by a now familiar scene: Rafesson and Knud playing
Viking Shifters,
while their cute dumpling of a brother, Nago, waits for his turn. Janelle’s daughters are also in a far corner of the room. Curled up together in a wing-back chair looking like the black version of
Little Women
as the oldest, Sarah, reads
Harry Potter
out loud
to her little sister, Koko.

The boys don’t look up from their game, but they somehow all manage to pet Olafr as he walks through the room. The girls, however, actually get out of their seat to bend down and scratch him behind the ears as they coo and trill in that way young girls do with animals. Unlike the boys, they’ve heard about but have not been allowed access to Olafr’s huge wolf. Nonetheless they react to his oversized wolf like the cutest Disney character ever has just entered the room.

Apparently, Olafr doesn’t scare the children of this house nearly as much as he does the adults.

After they’re all done with their gushing, Koko climbs back into the chair. However Sarah lingers for a moment longer, speaking directly to FJ.

“Is it time for our lesson?” She clutches the open book to her chest like a small shield and it’s pretty clear she doesn’t want her story time cut short just yet.

“No, Princess,” FJ responds with an understanding smile. “But I look forward to our time together later this day, mayhap when you have finished with your book.” He reaches behind the chair to open the French doors that lead to the back of the house.

“Okay!” Sarah says. She scoots back into the chair next to her sister and opens the book. “Where were we? Oh, that’s right. ‘
Inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with Happy Birthday Harry written on it in green icing
…’”

Olafr walks over to the chair and settles in just below the girls’ dangling feet with a deep sigh, like he’s been waiting to be read to from a good book all day.

“Olafr’s not coming with us?” I ask as I walk out the doors past FJ.

“No, he is your protector and I am your fenrir. He prefers to leave most discussions to me. It is how things have always been between us.”