The Undoing (20 page)

“So?” Erin asked. “What do you think of your party?”

Kera tried to make another grab for her, but Vig wouldn't release her.

“If you're hoping that she's even thinking about what happened an hour ago,” he whispered against Kera's ear, “you'll be very disappointed.”

“I dropped her into the pool from, like, three hundred feet in the air.”

“She just doesn't care.”

Kera wasn't sure she believed him until she watched Erin for a good minute.

The redhead raised her glass in the air, greeting the Japanese Crows walking by. Then she snapped her fingers at one of the waiters and took several of the hors d'oeuvres from the silver platter since the mini-pizza was long gone.

“This is Kobe beef,” Erin explained before shoving one in her mouth. “Yummy!”

“Oh my God,” Kera whispered to Vig. “She really doesn't.”

“Erin never holds grudges. Not the way you and I hold grudges, I mean.”

“I threw her through a door.”

“Doesn't matter.”

The Los Angeles Valkyries walked into the backyard. They didn't wear much. Mostly bikinis or very tiny shorts and T-shirts. But it was all silver. And headbands with wings. The leader threw her arms in the air and screeched out, “
Valkyries in the house, bitches!
”

“You invited the Valkyries?” Kera asked Erin.

“No, but they come anyway.”

“I thought we had security.”

“My sister's a Valkyrie,” Vig reminded them.

“We do have security,” Erin went on, ignoring Vig. “But our security is made up of shifters, which means that like all wild animals, they are slaves to their basest instincts.” She gestured to the now-dancing Valkyries. “So, yeah, who's going to stop the whores from coming into the party?”

“Again,” Vig said, “my sister.”

Kera glanced around. “Where's the guys?” she asked Vig and when he stared at her, “Your Raven brothers?”

“Outside.”

“Yeah.” Erin held up her empty glass, gesturing at one of the waitresses for more alcohol. “They have been denied access.”

“Why? I like the guys.”

“Yeahhhh, but this really irritates them, which amuses me, soooooo, yeahhhhhh—”

Kera shook her head. “What is wrong with you?”

Annalisa suddenly appeared beside them, as if she'd been waiting for just such an opening. “You know, many have asked me that about Erin. And you'd think she must have some kind of personality disorder. But surprisingly . . . she doesn't. Erin is just kind of a dick.”

Erin gratefully took the fresh Long Island iced tea and, grinning, nodded her head in agreement.

 

Jace perched in the trees overlooking the party. Birds surrounded her on all sides, the crows and ravens keeping her company as she watched her sisters dance, laugh, and have a good time.

She wished she could say she was unhappy being up here. She wished she could regret not feeling comfortable enough to be part of the action.

But that would be a lie.

Jace was so very comfortable right now, being a part of and
apart from
everything. She used to dream about living this way in those days when she was the Great Prophet's wife. Those days when she had to be right by her husband's side, smiling, shaking hands, holding conversations with idiots not smart enough to realize they were being used and manipulated. Being part of everything. Fully involved.

Gods, how she always hated it so.

But when Jace had become a Crow, during her own welcome party she'd gone to the trees and the Crows hadn't said a word. They'd noticed. They'd cared. But when they realized Jace was more comfortable observing rather than participating, they'd backed off and left her to her own devices. Then such a show they'd given her, filled with fights and laughter and rude pranks directed at each other and the visiting Clans. They'd made sure that Jace had something fun to watch.

Her party had been amazing.

Kera's was turning out to be even better.

The birds surrounding Jace suddenly took flight in a large panic of wings. When they settled back down, they were all on Jace's left, staring.

Jace looked to her right to see what had her friends so concerned.

Ski and the Protectors were now perched beside her. Some had plates of food. Others had drinks. After a few minutes, they politely switched with each other. They were sharing.

It was so civilized. Not what she was used to at all. A fight over bread sticks broke out among the Ravens once at an Olive Garden. That's what Jace was used to.

Ski smiled at her. Gods in the heavens, he was just so damn handsome.

“Sorry I'm late,” he said. “The guys were harassing the shifters.”

“We weren't harassing,” Gundo argued. “We were just asking questions.”

“But they certainly are sensitive for wild beasts,” Haldor said between bites of Kobe beef and chicken wings.

Jace winced. “You didn't call them that to their faces, did you?”

“No. Of course not.”

“Of course not,” Ski repeated. “They just called them wild animals and freaks.”

“In our defense, Jacinda,” Haldor added, “they did call us freaks first.”

Jace didn't bother to argue and instead pointed out, “You guys don't have to sit up here with me, you know. You're more than welcome down there with everyone else.”

The Protectors suddenly looked uncomfortable.

“Well,” Haldor finally said, “the crowd is so large—”

“—and the music is so loud—” another Protector chimed in.

“—and there is so much pushing and shoving—”

“That's called dancing,” Ski muttered.

“—and whoever invited the Giant Killers should have told the men that deodorant is not optional but a mandatory accoutrement—”

“—which is to say—”

“—we'll be much happier up here—”

“—than we would be down there—”

“—if it's all right with you, Jacinda,” Haldor finished for them all.

“It's absolutely fine with me,” Jace replied, understanding the language of introverts better than any other language she knew. “Whatever you guys want to do. That's what Crow parties are all about. Within reason, of course. No random murder. Chloe hates that. And no grabbing entire trays of food and going somewhere to sit down and feed . . . everyone else hates that.”

“Wait.” Bear's eyes grew bright. “Does that mean we can—”

“
No
,” Ski stated firmly. “You can't harass the shifters.”

“Questions are
not
harassment.”

“That grizzly was moments from tearing your head off. I promised Ormi no one would die tonight.”

“Actually,” Jace said, “I chatted with one of the bartenders before I came up here—”

“You chatted?” Ski asked.

“About global warming.”

“Of course.”

“—and she's a neuroscience major studying for her master's. She was exceptionally friendly for a shifter, and I'm sure she'd be more than happy to answer your questions as long as you refrain from calling them freaks or wild beasts. Want me to ask?”

“No,” Ski said.

“Yes, please!” the others replied.

 

Ski waited until Jace flew off before glaring at his brothers.

“Really?” he asked.

“We're curious,” Borgsten replied for them all.

“Curiosity killed the owl.”

“No. It killed the cat. The owls flew away.”

Jace returned. “Whenever you want, stop by the bar. Her name is Wendy. She's actually an African wild dog . . . and yet,” she went on, obviously fascinated, her wings keeping her aloft in front of them, “
not
black. Korean American, fifth generation. But she apparently comes from a very long line of African wild dogs.” Her grin was wide. “Fascinating, right?”

“Fascinating!” his brothers parroted back to her, their grins equally wide.

They weren't mocking. They really found that information fascinating.

Jace perched on a branch next to Ski, and he looked over at Borgsten.

Ski raised his brows and tipped his head. Borgsten frowned. Shrugged. Oblivious as always.

Ski mouthed,
Go away.

“Oh! Yeah.” Borgsten pointed to more trees across the yard. “Gentlemen, we're going there for a better view.”

Bear looked at the distant trees, then back at Borgsten. “A better view of what?”

“A better view of everything.”

“But I'm comfortable.”

Borgsten pointed. “Move.”

With an annoyed grunt, Bear flew off and the others followed. Borgsten stopped long enough to wink and blatantly nod at Ski.

Idiot.

“They are so cute,” Jace said, laughing.

At least she was laughing.

“I think you mean oblivious.”

“Why oblivious? Because they won't allow themselves to be forced into society's norms of good behavior?”

“No. Because they can't tell when one of their brethren wants to spend time alone with a beautiful woman.”

“Who?”

Ski closed his eyes, shook his head. “Gods, no wonder you get along with them. You're oblivious, too.”

 

Oh. He meant her.

He meant her!

“Uh . . .” Jace didn't know what to say.

“Are you blushing?”

“No. Shut up. No. Asshole.”

Ski laughed. “I didn't mean to embarrass you.”

“I know. I'm just not used to compliments.”

“Because no one gives them or because you're too busy ignoring everything and everyone around you?”

“Uhhhh . . .”

“Yeah, that's what I thought.”

 

Rolf waited until Josef handed the keys to his Bugatti to the valet before he approached.

“They won't let us in,” Rolf told him.

“What?”

“They won't let us in. They let Vig in, but we're ‘not on the list.' And the grizzly at the front door is being kind of a dick about it, and Stieg and Siggy are about two seconds from starting a
National Geographic
documentary–style fight on the African plains.”

“All these years and you still haven't figured out how to get into a Crow party?”

“Not since you divorced their leader, no.”

“I didn't divorce her. She divorced me.”

“Do we really have to have this discussion again?”

“I say we fly in there,” Siggy volunteered.

“And get pecked to death by those crows? I mean the birds, not the women.”

“The raven birds will back us up.”

Rolf studied his brother. “You're really relying on actual birds to protect us from other actual birds?”

“Everyone calm down,” Josef said. “I've got this covered.”

“You gonna divorce Chloe again?” Stieg asked.

Their leader's eyes narrowed. “You are
such
an asshole.” Josef motioned to a small truck that had followed him in.

Three men came out, pulling something from the back of the truck's cab.

Josef walked to the front door with the Ravens behind him.

The grizzly didn't even look up. He just sniffed the air—which was weird—and said, “Again . . . you're not on the list, fellas.”

“Can you grab one of the ladies of the house, please?” Josef asked. When the grizzly finally looked at him, he added, “Before you start getting lippy, we can drag you up and drop you from five hundred feet in the air before your friends can even flash a fang. So just get whoever is running this shit show. Thanks.”

A minute went by, then two before Alessandra arrived at the front door. Rolf quietly let out a breath he'd been holding. He'd been worried it would be Annalisa. Of all the Crows, he found the former sociopath the most disturbing to deal with. It seemed she could just look at a person, instantly figure out what their insecurities were, and design a way to fuck with them in a matter of seconds.

And honestly, Josef was just too easy to torture.

“Gentlemen,” she purred, looking hotter than ever. “Can I help you?”

“We're here for the party,” Josef replied.

“I know you are, but Chloe hates you. She hates you a lot. And with good reason. Valkyrie stripper, Josef? Really?”

“I can't believe you're judging another woman.”

“I might believe your lame attempt at feminism if I didn't know the only reason she's a Valkyrie is because of Odin and his love of big-tittied strippers.”

“Odin knows what he likes.”

“Maybe he should leave the Valkyrie decisions up to Freyja.”

“Those are god decisions I don't involve myself in. I suggest you do the same. But for now—”

“Yeah, sorry, but—”

“I brought a gift.”

“Come on, Josef. Do you really think you can
buy
your way into a Crow party?” She chuckled and turned to go back into the house.

“Even if I brought
Barrique de Ponciano Porfidio
?”

Rolf had no idea what Josef was offering or why the man was suddenly speaking Spanish, but Alessandra froze in midstep and several Crows appeared in the doorway.

Slowly, Alessandra faced Josef. “Are you lying?”

“No. I have one hundred bottles just for you lovely ladies.”