But to be honest, Kera could barely hear the directions. Her heart was beating too fast. And tears began to well in her usually dry eyes—a “flaw” that used to bother her ex-husband. Her lack of tears over anything.

What choice did she have, though? When she was looking at the man who’d saved her life?

So, ignoring all of Erin’s warnings, Kera charged over to Giant Number Two and threw herself right into his arms.

Vig Rundstöm wrapped his arms around Kera Watson’s perfect, perfect body and held her tight.

Tighter than he probably should. He couldn’t help himself, though. She was alive.

Alive and well and in his arms. Hugging him back, and whispering, “Thank you!” over and over against his ear.

Kera finally pulled back a bit, her hands reaching up to grasp his face. She smiled and he saw tears in her eyes.

“I—” she began.

“So you two know each other?” Erin Amsel asked, the Crows having sidled their way up alongside them to get a closer look.

Kera blinked and immediately replied, “He’s a customer.”

“A customer?”

“Yeah.” She looked back at Amsel and the other Crows. “A favorite customer. Used to come into the coffee shop I worked at. I always called him ‘four bear claws and a black coffee.’ ”

“Really?”

Vig felt Kera’s body tighten. “Yeah,” she barked back. “Really.”

“And you greet all your favorite customers with your legs around their waist?”

Kera unwrapped those legs from Vig—something he was not happy about—dropped to the ground, and turned to face Amsel.

“No,” Kera replied. “Sometimes I just get on my knees and give ’em blow jobs in an alley.”

“Did you learn that in the Marines, too?” Amsel asked.

A direct hit that Vig knew would turn ugly. He was already reaching for Kera as Stieg was going for Amsel. But Maeve beat them all, stepping between the two women and holding up her phone.

“I put my symptoms in . . . cancer. I have cancer.”

“You,” Amsel said, “do not have cancer. And,” she added, “if you keep talking about cancer you’re gonna eventually get it!”

“Are you wishing cancer on me?”

“No. But now that you mention it . . .”

With a noise of disgust, Kera grabbed Vig’s hand and led him back into his house, closing the door behind them.

She relaxed against the door and let out a relieved sigh. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Kera announced, “but all I want to do is beat that redhead. Beat her and beat her and beat her until she stops squawking at me.”

Vig nodded. “That’s not surprising. You’retrying to get used to the new and improved you. It’ll take time for your body to adjust.”

Kera didn’t seem to care about any of that.

“Vig,” he said, finally introducing himself. “Vig Rundstöm. And all I did was ask a god a favor. But trust me, if you weren’t already worthy, Skuld would have completely ignored me. You’re here, Kera, because Skuld thought you deserved to be.”

“Put it any way you want. You saved my life.”

“I couldn’t. It was too late for that.” When Kera shook her head, he explained, “Kera, you weren’t already dying. You were on your last breath. Your soul was transitioning from this world to the next when Skuld took it. So I didn’t save your life. I just gave you a shot at a second one. A brand-new life as a Daughter of Skuld. As a Crow.”

She gazed at him, a wide smile suddenly breaking out across her beautiful face.

“What?” he asked.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say anything but”—she dropped her voice several octaves—“ ‘four bear claws and a black coffee please.’ Oh, and ‘I’m fine . . . and you?’ ” She laughed. “I didn’t know you could say more.”

“I speak when I have something to say.”

She nodded. “Your C.O.s must have loved you then.”

Vig frowned. “My C.O.s?”

“Your commanding officers? In the military? What were you? God, please don’t tell me you were Air Force,” she teased.

“I’m not in the Army. Or Air Force. Or anything like that. I’m not even American. I’m Swedish.”

She blinked. “You are?”

“I’ve been here since I was nine, but I’ve only ever been a Raven. A Swedish Raven.”

“And that means . . . what? Exactly.”

He gave a small smile. “No one’s told you anything, have they?”

“There’s been a lot of yelling. My God, there’s been so much yelling.”

“The Ravens, the Crows, the other Clans . . . we are the human representatives of the Viking gods on this plane of existence. We are the hammers of the gods. Some say fist of the gods, but . . . that always makes me think of that movie Caligula, and that makes me uncomfortable. So I like hammer. We are the hammers of the gods.”

“We are?”

Vig nodded. “Oh yes, Kera. We are.”

“Okay.” Kera blew out a long breath. “I’ll try not to freak out about that.” Even though Vig sensed she was starting to freak out. He could see it in her eyes.

He decided to distract her. “So . . . what made you think I was in the military?”