Part 5 (2/2)
”Hey,” she said.
”Hey. Do you remember me?”
”Nuh-uh.”
”You offered to sell me your wolf.”
The girl's eyes flicked away, as if she was looking for an escape route. She spotted Mist and looked back at Hermod. ”I didn't mean it,” she said. ”I wouldn't sell him for a million bucks. He's my darling.” The wolf sagged heavily in her arms.
”I see you two have developed an attachment. Where'd you get him?”
”Found him.”
”Hear me,” Hermod said. ”I've got a sword in this bag, and if you're not more forthcoming, I'm going to take Little Darling's head right off. Do you believe me?”
The girl looked at him with fear and smoldering hatred. ”Yes,” she whispered.
”Good. You found him where, exactly?”
”Here,” she said with contempt. ”On the beach. He was just a tiny ball of fluff with sand fleas in his fur, crying for his mama. I know I can't take care of a wolf. I can barely take care of myself. But what could I do? It's so cold. And people ... We've all gone crazy. There's people who'll eat him.” To Hermod's alarm, tears stood in her eyes.
She set the wolf down and threw an arm around his neck. ”Beautiful boy, look at those eyes. How could anyone want to hurt you, hmm? But don't worry, I won't let them.”
Maybe there was no problem here, Hermod thought. The wolf might just be someone's lost exotic pet. This was Los Angeles, after all, where people kept ocelots in their backyards. True, the pup looked like the ones in Ironwood. And, yes, it had tripled its size in only a few days.
Hermod sighed as the grim thought came to him: He'd have to kill it in front of the girl.
The wolf shot a jet of p.i.s.s, barely missing the girl, who jumped back with a squeal. Steam rose from the sand where the urine landed. There was a great deal of movement now beneath the lifeguard station. The blankets fell away, revealing not people but five more lean-muscled pups. They stretched their jaws wide in horrible yawns, their teeth like little white knives set in black gums. A gust of wind disturbed the sand at Hermod's feet, or maybe it was gravity drawing the grains toward the wolves.
Winston vibrated in a low growl, remaining at Hermod's side. Mist came forward, closer to Hermod, widening her stance to keep her footing. ”Jesus,” she whispered.
”More little b.a.l.l.s of fluff you found?” Hermod called out. His own voice sounded distant to his ears.
”No, they just showed up. I think they're my sweetie's littermates.”
The girl must have caught the look of murder in Hermod's eyes, because she moved around in the sand to put her body between Hermod and the pup. ”Don't you hurt them!” she said with a snarl. ”Don't you dare!” She tilted her head back, and Hermod thought she was going to start howling, but instead she screamed, ”Help! Rape! Murder!”
The other wolves moved around the girl and their sibling, like slow-moving water around a rock.
”I don't want to hurt you, miss,” Hermod said, ”so you'd better get out of my way.”
”I hate you,” the girl spat. ”You're a terrible man. We haven't done anything to you. This isn't fair.”
With the world-ending wolves approaching, Hermod could only agree with her. Nothing was fair. It wasn't fair that Baldr had died. It wasn't fair that Hod had been killed in punishment when the crime had been Loki's. It wasn't fair that Hermod couldn't spend the last days of the world on a warm beach with nubile island girls, drinking fruity drinks and being fed ham sandwiches.
At least the wolves were nowhere near fully grown yet, and Hermod allowed for the remote possibility that he could kill them, maybe even all of them, and not suffer a fatal wound. Stranger things had happened.
They continued their slow approach, almost catlike in their deliberation, and Hermod felt his balance slipping, their attraction increasing as they grew closer. He almost pitched forward and just managed to plant a leg in front of himself to prevent a fall. Winston flattened himself, digging into the sand. With a small cry, Mist flew past him. Hermod reached out and grabbed her by the arm just in time. She fell to her knees, holding her shoulder. He hoped he hadn't dislocated it.
The five pups formed a circle around them.
”Heel,” Hermod said. ”Play dead.”
One of the pups let loose an ear-gouging yip, and the others took it up, stabbing the air with rising notes that became fully voiced howls.
Hermod waited it out, sweating.
Then, the wolves spoke in words, all joined in a breathy, high-pitched voice that wavered in tone, a wolf howl repurposed. ”Is the moon out?” they asked. ”We're so hungry.”
”It's daylight still,” Hermod said, though there was little light and even less warmth on the beach. ”Guess you'll have to come back later.”
”But we're hungry now” they whined. ”You killed our mother, and, oh, we want the moon so badly. The sun too. We'll chase them both until they're tired, and then they'll be ours.”
Hermod tried not to look into their open mouths. It was so dark in there.
”What about the girl? She feeds you.”
”She can't keep even one of our bellies full. She's such a tiny morsel.” And the pup the girl was protecting opened its jaws and leaned forward, and the girl's head was in its mouth. Screaming, she went down slowly, like a rat being devoured by a snake, disappearing up to her shoulders, then her elbows.
”Hey, leave her alone!” Mist struggled to her feet, and Hermod reached out to restrain her but missed.
The other wolves stretched their jaws wider, and Mist shot forward, helpless. She stumbled and fell, somersaulting like a leaf in a windstorm. Hermod dove for her legs, managed to catch them, and held her down in the blast of flying sand grains.
The girl kicked and thrashed to no avail as the wolf continued to draw her down its gullet, until she was gone from the thighs up. Her sobs came in a faint echo, now only her feet sticking out from the pup's mouth, and then it snapped its muzzle shut, and the girl was vanished from the earth.
The pup turned two drowsy circles in the sand and lay down, resting its head on folded paws.
”Will it be night soon?” the other cubs asked.
Hermod's lips moved silently. It took him a moment to find his voice. ”Soon enough,” he said.
”We'll eat you now. We're so hungry.”
”If you want to snack on me,” Hermod said, ”better digest me quick, because any mutt that eats me is getting cut open from the inside.”
”There are six of us,” the wolves said.
”Suits me fine. Take turns. I'll slice you one by one.”
The wolves pulled their lips back in snarls, displaying their incisors. Their growls made Hermod's eyes hurt. He wondered what it would be like in a wolf belly. Tight, he figured. Hot. Acidic. Would there be enough room to swing his sword? He had reasonable hopes that there might be. The wolves were probably bigger on the inside than they were on the outside.
”The mutts will eat just about anything,” Hermod whispered to Mist. ”Those b.a.l.l.s I bought at the black market are hand grenades. When I give the signal, grab a couple from my duffel, yank on the pull tab, and toss.”
”Excellent,” the Valkyrie said. She seemed a little bit impressed with him, and Hermod caught himself grinning. ”What's the signal?” she asked.
No sooner had she posed the question than the wolves sprang forward.
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