To this day, Crows were known to still mob Protectors when they thought they were too close to them. It could happen any time and anywhere. More than one football riot in Europe began not because of some overzealous fans but because some Crows spotted a Protector and acted accordingly.

It didn’t help that European Crows and Ravens really loved football.

Vig stared down at the Protector, who was bleeding from his face. He debated what to do and, with a shrug, decided he should probably just kill him. But as he was leaning down to finish him off quickly—he didn’t believe in tormenting people before ending them, that always seemed tacky to him—Josef grabbed Vig’s arm and yanked him back.

“We’re not here to kill anybody.”

“He started it,” Vig pointed out.

“He flew up behind you.”

“He started it.”

Josef sighed, something he did a lot when he was talking to Vig, which was why Vig didn’t understand why Josef wanted to bring him.

Danski “Ski” Eriksen led the Ravens into his leader’s grand library. The Protectors, unlike the Ravens, were thinkers. And every leader had an elaborate library filled to the brim with knowledge. Not only did they have these libraries but every Protector made it his business to know and understand each of the books held within.

Knowledge was the most important thing when it came to keeping balance in the world. Without knowledge there was only anarchy and decay and Clans running out of control. An existence no Protector could tolerate.

Ormi had been Ski’s leader since he’d first arrived for training. He was six at the time. Found by Tyr himself and taken from his family when he was six, Ski had never looked back. Unlike the Ravens and most of the other Clans, one Protector didn’t pass his legacy on to his son. Instead, Tyr chose from anyone he wanted to. Anyone he felt was worthy. In fact, more than one Viking-descended family had children in different Clans, which often made for awkward Thanksgiving dinners. The Clans could be just as contentious with each other as they were to those they considered their enemies. What kept them from outright killing each other was each Clan’s need to barter for items they couldn’t just get from anyone and the fact that some of them were related. Besides, sometimes the Clans really did need each other

In fact, a recent issue that Ormi had just noticed was starting to turn into something that required the assistance and knowledge of more than one Clan. Although why Ormi was involving the Ravens of all Clans, Ski didn’t know.

The Ravens were crass loud dullards who weren’t worthy of the Protectors’ time. They killed first, asked questions later . . . maybe. If they felt like it. And for Josef Alexandersen to bring his head killer with him to meet with Ormi was the highest of insults as far as Ski was concerned.

He glanced back at Vig Rundstöm before walking into the library.Personally, he wouldn’t allow the man to sully the hallowed halls of this sacred space, but it wasn’t his decision. Ormi led the Southern California Protectors. He made all the decisions and Ski would never question him.

“They’re here,” Ski said by way of introduction.

Ormi smirked at him. They’d worked together long enough for Ormi to know exactly what Ski thought of the Ravens.

Ormi leaned back in his chair, green eyes looking over the Ravens. “I see you brought your pit bull,” he noted, staring at Rundstöm.

The slow-witted Raven pointed at himself. “Wait . . . who? Me?”

Already disgusted—and they’d just gotten there—Ski went around Ormi’s chair and stood behind him. He wouldn’t let anything happen to his leader. Not while he had breath in his body.

Ormi sighed. “Thank the gods you have a talent in blacksmithing, boy. Otherwise, I don’t know how you’d survive.”

“You called us here so you can insult us?” Alexandersen asked.

“I didn’t call them anywhere. I called you, Raven Leader.”

“Ormi, just get on with it. I don’t have time for this Old World bullshit.” He winked at Siggy Kaspersen and added, “I gotta date.”

“When your ex finds out about that stripper . . .” Kaspersen sighed out.

Stieg Engstrom laughed. “You are dead where you stand.”

“Are you idiots done?” Ormi snapped.

The Ravens slowly looked down at Ormi, heads tilting as they examined him.

Not liking that, Ski cracked his knuckles and he immediately had the four Ravens staring at him.

“Nice glasses, Poindexter,” Engstrom sneered.

“Aw, dude, don’t pick on him,” Kaspersen said with all sincerity. “He could be blind.” Then Kaspersen raised his arm and began waving his hand in Ski’s direction. It took a second to realize that he was trying to figure out if Ski was blind.

But . . . but Ski had led them in here. He could obviously see them!

Rolf Landvik slapped Kaspersen’s hand down before looking back to his phone, and Ormi tried again.

“What I have to say to you, Raven Leader, is very important.”

“Then say it.”

“There’s been a considerable uptick in human sacrifices.”

Again, the Ravens stared at Ormi with that blank bird-like stare until Engstrom asked, “So?”

Horrified, Ormi snapped, “What do you mean ‘so’?”

“He means,” Rolf replied while texting away with his thumbs, “that in troubled times, there is always an uptick in zealous religious fervor. Some join established religions but others join sects that practice human sacrifice. This isn’t exactly a shock.”