‘I need to see the Wolf,’ he said. ‘I need to know whose side he’s on.’ He fixed me with his coldest stare. ‘Captain, I hope you’re not going to be obstructive about this.’

‘Me? Obstructive? Of course not. But I wish you’d tell me what this is about.’

‘Later,’ said Odin. ‘Just bring the Wolf.’

And so I promised to bring my son to Asgard for assessment. I figured that if I helped him out, then Odin might confide in me – or if things went the other way, I’d have a friend in my corner. Besides, I hadn’t seen Fenris in years and, like the Old Man, I wanted to know just how powerful he’d become, and what loyalty (if any) I could expect from the Wolf and his mother.

And so I flew to Ironwood, in my falcon Aspect. On my arrival, I found Angrboda waiting for me, looking alluring as always, with Fenris, in wolf form, at her side, looking rather less so.

‘I should have known you’d be around,’ she said, as I shifted back into Aspect. ‘You and the General always were as thick as thieves. When I saw those birds of his I knew you wouldn’t be far behind.’

That was unfair. I pointed out, as I had to Hel, that I needed no self-serving excuse to call on my nearest and dearest.

‘Is it so hard to believe,’ I said, ‘that I might have wanted to see you? You are the love of my life, you know. And dear little Fenris . . .’ Fenris snarled. ‘How could you think I’d stay away?’

Angie arched an eyebrow, through which an emerald stud gleamed. ‘Don’t give me that. After fifteen years, you decide to come over all paternal?’ She gave me one of her smouldering looks. ‘What do you really want?’

‘Well, apart from the obvious . . .’ I looked down at my state of undress. ‘Some clothes would be nice. Unless you feel like—’

Angie growled. ‘Not in front of the children, dear.’

Once more I glanced at Fenris. I remembered him as rather cute – in a slavering kind of way. Now he just looked malevolent and generally unappealing. Still, teenage werewolves are typically foul; hairy, smelly and monosyllabic. Not unlike the human kind, when you come to think of it, although most human youngsters would be incapable of tearing your head off with their bare hands and making it into a buttock sandwich.

‘So, what are you into nowadays?’ I asked him, with little enthusiasm.

Fenris just growled again, showing his teeth. There were rather a lot of them, and his breath was distinctly rank.

‘Mostly devouring things,’ Angie said. ‘Although he quite enjoys killing things, too.’

‘Can’t he speak for himself?’ I said.

She gave the wolf an indulgent smile. ‘You know what they’re like at that age. Fenny, be nice and say hello to your father.’