She was drawing in the sand again. Not a circle this time, but a little heart shape with the runes Hagall for Hel and Bjarkán for Balder written inside. I found it frankly nauseating, but summoned up a sympathetic look.

‘How badly do you want him?’ I said.

She looked up. ‘I’d do anything.’

‘Anything?’

That dead eye again. ‘Anything,’ said my daughter.

‘All right,’ I said with a little smile. ‘I’ll help you if I get the chance. But not a word to anyone. And you’ll owe me a favour. Agreed?’

She gave me her living hand.

‘Agreed.’

And that was how the Queen of the Dead promised me a favour. I couldn’t foresee when I’d cash it in, but I sensed the changing seasons, and I knew that, like Ratatosk the squirrel, it was time for Yours Truly to put away a few supplies for the winter. Everything dies eventually, of course. The operative word is ‘eventually’. And if I could somehow reshape events to suit my own agenda . . .

Well. Isn’t that what Odin himself did, when he reshaped the Worlds from Ymir’s corpse? Isn’t that what all gods do, in their various ways, to survive?

Lesson 2 Deception

LESSON 2

Deception

So shoot me. It’s my nature.

Lokabrenna

THE NEXT PORT OF CALL for Odin’s birds was the forest of Ironwood, where the second of my monstrous children was causing concern among the wildlife. I hadn’t seen the Fenris Wolf since his mother and I had parted on less than amicable terms. Now he was no longer a cub, but fully grown and ferocious. Although he shared my ability to take a human Aspect, he tended to favour his wolf form, which was why Odin had sent his ravens to check out the danger he might represent.

This wouldn’t have troubled me at all (I’d never been close to Angie’s brood), except for the underhand way in which the General approached the problem, going behind my back without as much as a word to me. And now, as his ravens brought back news of my son in Ironwood, Odin declared the wolf a threat and called for him to be neutralized.

‘Neutralized?’ I said. ‘Does that mean like Jormungand was neutralized? Or were you thinking more of a permanent solution?’

Odin remained expressionless. I went on:

‘I mean, after all this time you suddenly think my son’s a threat? Who to? Since when has he done anything except run amok in Ironwood catching squirrels and, let’s face it, the Worlds could always do with fewer of those . . .’

No one had mentioned Balder’s dreams, but the connection was obvious. Balder was a Mummy’s boy, spoilt and overprotected; I sensed his mother’s influence now, as Odin outlined his demands.