Now available at Amazon for 99 cents — or FREE from...
Now available at Amazon for 99 cents — or FREE from Smashwords — just enter the code AX64L (expires 6/24/2014).
SNEAK PEEK:
Only a few days have passed since Amy and Bohdi escaped Asgard. Now, she is in Grant Park by Lake Michigan, jogging beside Sleipnir, an eight-legged stallion, child of one of Loki’s former incarnations, and Odin’s former steed. The day is bright and clear, but cold. The ground is half covered in snow, and the park is completely empty of people.
Amy holds the loop of a dog leash in her hand. The other end is clipped to Gleipnir, the magical, unbreakable halter Sleipnir wears at all times. It compels him to obey; Amy isn’t sure how—but she’s never worked with a horse that’s needed so little prompting to behave.
On Sleipnir’s back, sitting in a saddle borrowed from the Chicago City Police Department’s mounted patrol, sits Claire, the ten-year-old daughter of Amy’s boss, Steve Rogers.
Steve would probably kill her if he knew she was letting Claire do this. Sleipnir is the most enormous horse Amy’s ever seen, and during veterinary training she worked with Clydesdales. A fall could break Claire’s neck. But Claire’s smiling wildly, white teeth flashing in her coffee-and-cream skin. She’s happy … and Steve said she’d been sinking into depression since the murder of her mother.
“You’re doing great,” Amy says.
“It’s easy!” says Claire, her hands buried in Sleipnir’s mane.
“You make it look easy,” says Amy. Sleipnir has a beautiful smooth gait, but there’s no denying Claire’s posture is perfect. Maybe it’s all her training as a ballerina, but she sits up straight in the saddle, head high, and moves seemingly unconsciously with the big horse.
Sleipnir gives a whicker, and Claire says, “Oh, look! Unicorns!”
Amy raises her head. Where before had just been Buckingham fountain, dry and empty for the winter, there is now a herd of the world-walking, magical beasts, ears pricked in their direction.
Before Amy has even recovered from her surprise, Claire says to Sleipnir, “Do you want to go visit your friends?”
Sleipnir bobs his head, and Claire shouts, “Let’s go!”
Obeying Claire’s command, Sleipnir gracefully pivots toward the unicorn herd. The movement is so smooth Claire doesn’t even wobble, but so quick that the loop of lead slips from Amy’s wrist and out of her hand. Amy almost curses—she’d been so lulled by Sleipnir’s obedient demeanor, she forgot that she had to worry about his rider’s temperament. Sprinting to catch up, she shouts, “Claire! Stop! Unicorns can be dangerous!”
Looking over her shoulder, Claire says, “Unicorns like us, remember?”
“But they might not like Sleipnir!” Amy says. As if to prove her point, the stallion of the herd trots forward, eyes on his eight-legged potential rival. Snorting, ears flattened against his neck, the unicorn stallion shakes his head and stomps his feet.
Sleipnir, oblivious, or simply unafraid, continues to trot forward.
Amy’s eyes widen. If Claire falls from his back … “Sleipnir, remember Claire,” Amy begs under her breath.
She doesn’t expect Sleipnir to respond. But he does. He draws gently to a stop, as though being careful not to dislodge his young rider. Turning his head back in Amy’s direction, he pricks his ears in her direction. His big brown eyes look hauntingly knowing.
She sucks in a breath as she catches the lead. Just how much does he understand?
The unicorn stallion prances and gives a shrill, triumphant whinny.
Turning to the other horse, Sleipnir trembles, his ears go back and his nostrils go wide, as though he’s resisting the urge to lunge.
The mares in the herd start to whinny, roll their eyes, and snort. At first Amy thinks it’s at the antics of the two males, but then the unicorn stallion lifts its head, gaze going to a point in the sky beyond Amy’s shoulder. Rolling his eyes, he steps backwards.
Amy turns her head and looks up. Swooping down from the sky is what looks like a flock of angels. Her eyes go wide. “Valkyries,” she says. The winged women warriors of Asgard.
“What do they want?” says Claire.
Amy’s blood runs cold. She remembers Bohdi’s prediction after their escape from Asgard, “Odin will never let us get away with this. He will hunt us until the end of our lives.”
Thor said that Frigga was on Amy and Bohdi’s side, and that she’d claimed their escape was at her directive but …
From the sky comes a bloodcurdling cry. Amy sees the Valkyries raise their spears. Even though they’re far away she can see the points of their weapons start to glow red. Pulling to the end of the lead, the big horse turns to face the Valkyries. Tossing his head he releases a bellow that is nearly as bloodcurdling as the winged warriors’ shrill cries.
“Claire, hold on!” Amy shouts, lunging for Sleipnir’s long mane. She’s barely grabbed a handful of silky strands when a blast of red streaks in the periphery of her vision. The spot where she just stood erupts into flame. More beams of red streak around Amy, Sleipnir and Claire.
From the sky a Valkyrie shrieks, “Halt!” More beams of red streak to the ground, smoke rising up where grass begins to smolder.
Sleipnir snorts. Tightening her grip in the stallion’s mane, Amy shouts, “Sleipnir, slip!”
The stallion turns in place, and there is suddenly silence. Sleipnir is the fastest horse in the Nine Realms. Not because of his eight legs, but because he can slip through time—hence his name. Sleipnir translates to “the slipper.” Time stands still around Amy, Claire, and Sleipnir. There is no wind and it is absolutely silent. Claire looks down at Amy, eyes wide. Her mouth moves, but they are beyond sound now.
Sleipnir is so tall, Amy is almost dangling from his mane, but she knows from Loki’s memories that she has to be physically touching the great horse to move through time with him. She looks around. The blast of plasma fire from the Valkyries’ spears hangs in the air, forming a cage around them, but there is a gap. Amy guides Sleipnir to the one passageway in the frozen fire. The big horse has to bend his neck to fit, but he doesn’t balk. Amy sees Claire’s arms shaking, as she presses herself to the horse’s back to fit beneath the beam of red.
As soon as they’re through, Amy releases a breath. Still awkwardly clutching Sleipnir’s mane, she takes off at a jog toward headquarters. Looking over her shoulder, she checks on Claire. She doesn’t know what to expect—maybe fear, maybe tears. Claire’s face is sparkling with wet rivulets, but her mouth is set in a hard line that looks disturbingly out of place on a little girl.
Amy can’t dwell on it. She guides Sleipnir around cars, bicycles, and pedestrians that are at an eerie standstill. She’s not an athlete but her body feels light—still, by the time she reaches the FBI’s office of Anomalous Devices of Unknown Origin’s (ADUO) headquarters, her fingers are hurting from clutching his mane, her arm is burning from the strain, and her heart is beating hard. When she sees what is greeting her outside of headquarters, her heart almost stops.
Steve, Claire’s father, is standing in front of ADUO’s main door, hands on his hips, with agents on either side of him. Beatrice and Bohdi are on one side, Dale and the McDowell brothers on the other, plus several random agents Amy doesn’t recognize. Facing them is a line of a dozen Einherjar, Odin’s elite guard. Their spears are upraised, and the ends are glowing.
She brings Sleipnir to a halt, her mind churning. Sleipnir turns his head and gives her another strangely intelligent look…as though waiting for her direction. But before she can think of a coherent plan, Sleipnir turns his head back around and trots toward the line of gleaming weapons.
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