“How did you find out about it?” Kera asked.

“Chloe gave us the job.”

“How does she know?”

“Skuld told her.”

“Does she appear to her? Like the burning bush did to Moses?”

Tessa blinked. “My father was a stone-cold atheist, so your babble is meaningless to me.”

“You didn’t see the movie The Ten Commandments?”

“With Charlton Heston? I love that movie!”

“Yeah, well, the burning bush stuff was in there.”

“Does any of this really matter . . . to anyone . . . but you?” Erin finally asked, flashes of her Catholic school education coming back to haunt her.

“I like to know where your information is coming from,” Kera answered. “Wouldn’t you like to know that?”

“I don’t care. I never care. I just do my job.”

“You know, Kera does have a point,” Annalisa cut in.

“Does she?”

“The other night we all left the house based on information we got from Chloe, and the Killers used it to raid the place.”

“What happened doesn’t change the fact that the information was good.”

“Shut up,” Tessa said calmly. “Everybody just shut up. We have a job to do, and we’re going to just do it. Understand? Now let’s go.”

They followed the scent of burning incense and patchouli oil.

As they approached, they could see figures through the trees. It was a coven. All women. Thirteen. Many of them naked. Unfortunately.

The team crouched behind some boulders and Maeve shook her head. “They have a campfire . . . it’s wildfire season. That is so reckless!”

“Really?” Erin asked. “That’s your big concern?”

“This is how things get out of hand!” Maeve shot back.

“Would you two stop it?” Tessa asked. She pulled out her weapons. “Okay. On my count . . . kill everybody. Get the necklace. Three, two—”

“Wait!” Kera stared at Tessa. “Kill them? They’re a bunch of hippy witches.”

“And the one in the long robe is wearing the necklace.”

“So we take it from her and leave. Why do we need to kill anybody?”

“I told you!” Leigh accused. “I told you she was going to choke when the time came.”

“I’m not choking. I think I’m being reasonable. For all we know, she picked up that necklace in a pawnshop or antique store.”

“The reason we’re here,” Erin said, “is because they’ve used that necklace. Not simply because someone’s worn it.”

“Yeah. They used it. To dance in circles under a full moon and call on some pagan gods. This isn’t exactly world-ending behavior.”

Leigh began to argue that point but Tessa held up her hand. “Calm down, hear her out.”

“I’m just saying, I don’tthink they’ll put up much of a fight. I don’t think it’s necessary to go in there and massacre thirteen women to retrieve a fucking necklace.”

“Okay. What would you suggest we do instead?”

Watson watched the women for a bit, then said, “They’re high.”

“So?”

She looked back at Tessa and repeated, “They’re high. Let’s use that to our benefit.”

“How?”

Kera looked over the entire team, her gaze finally settling on Alessandra. “You. You can get the necklace. I bet they’ll just give it to you.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You’re a beautiful Mexican woman with long curly blond hair. You’ve got otherworldly written all over you.”

“Oh honey, thanks,” Alessandra gushed, and the rest of them rolled their eyes. “I usually go with a lighter brown, but my stylist Gino suggested the blond a few weeks ago and I’m so glad I went with it!”

“Are you done?” Tessa asked. She pointed at the twirling women singing along to an old Loreena McKennitt song. “See if you can get the necklace from them please.”

“I’m on it.”

“Flying in would probably work better,” Kera suggested.

Alessandra laughed and nodded, unleashed her wings, and shot off.

“They even show a twitch of putting up a fight,” Tessa warned, “and we kill every last one of them.”

“Again . . . seems excessive,” Kera muttered, “but okay.”

The Ravens didn’t have a favorite weapon the way the Crows and Giant Killers did. Instead, they were trained from childhood to handle every possible edge or blunt weapon that they might come in contact with. They were also trained how to unarm anyone. That way they could take someone else’s weapon and kill them with it. If they couldn’t unarm their prey, they were also taught to turn things into weapons. Chairs, glass, TVs. Anything could be used to kill.

And Vig Rundstöm was a master at all of that.

More important, he kind of enjoyed it. He enjoyed battle. He enjoyed taking on a true challenger. If he had to give fighting up for some reason, world peace or whatever, he could. But since world peace was probably not on the horizon anytime soon, he allowed himself to enjoy his current job.

Vig caught the forearm that had been trying to thrust a sword into him, twisted that forearm until bone fractured, blood spurting out of the open wound he’d created. Using that arm, Vig lifted his prey up and over, slamming him into the floor. He rammed his foot against his enemy’s throat and pulled at the arm he still held. The hand and part of the forearm tore off, so he tossed it aside and grabbed what was left. He pulled until he’d torn it out of the socket. His prey was screaming, of course, but Vig had learned a long time ago not to even hear all that. What was the point? It wasn’t going to stop him.