“I don't know,” Thor said as he stepped back. “I think it was good to get a glimpse of what I could have again.”
I smiled and shook my head. “Brevyn has a knack for doing the right thing even when it seems to be wrong.”
“Sounds like Ull.” Thor grinned and stared off toward where the kids were gathered at a pop-up picnic table, eating hot dogs. “So, I see that you decided to listen to Brevyn and not sent him back to Faerie. What about Arach?”
“I'll have to deal with him later. Brevyn said it was important that he be here.”
“That can't be good.”
“I know, but he looked so distraught when I said no. His face, Thor.” I shook my head. “Brevyn only gets that upset when someone's life hangs in the balance. And he promised me he would be okay.”
“But what could his being here do? He's not going to the battle.”
“He said he couldn't tell me, but the more I think about it, the more I'm convinced that it's Arach who's in danger. If Brevyn stays, Arach can't come.”
“Ah.” Thor nodded. “Now, that makes sense.”
“Either way, I've learned to listen to Brev when he has a premonition.”
“I think that's wise.”
Then a whooping came from my left, and I turned to see a bunch of Intare go running by, naked. For a second, it looked like the sort of antics you'd expect at a frat house, which is often the case at Pride Palace, but then the men shifted, becoming a group of lions who dashed off into the dark.
I sighed. “I hope we have room in the freezer.”
Thor looked baffled. “For what?”
“Whatever they kill.”
“Ah. An evening hunt.”
Then a howl rent the night, and everyone turned to see Fenrir, Wolf God of the Vikings and Father of the Froekn, come striding down the veranda steps with several members of his pack, including Trevor's younger brothers, Ty and UnnúlfR.
The enormous man came to a stop in the classic superhero pose—legs spread, hands on hips, and chin lifted. As if his size and that pose weren't intimidating enough, he also had a vicious-looking scar running down his face. “Did you think you were going to war without us?”
A chorus of “Grandpa!” came from the children.
“Hello, little ones!” Fenrir called to them, then returned to staring down the rest of us.
“Dad?” Trevor left the kid's table to go to his father. “What are you doing here?”
“We go to war with the Christians tomorrow, my boy.” Fenrir slapped his son on the shoulder. “So tonight, we feast!”
More Froekn poured out of the palace, and the Intare roared in greeting.
“I think you'll have plenty of room in your freezer,” Thor said dryly.
“I'd better go say hello.” I wound through the crowd and up to my father-in-law. “Hey, Dad.”
“Little Frami!” Fenrir scooped me up. “Congratulations on the birth of another pup.”
“Not all my kids are Froekn, Dad.” I kissed his cheek.
He set me down. “Froekn, Intare, Dragon-Sidhe, whatever, they're all pups to me.”
“Dad, you shouldn't be here. This isn't your fight,” Trevor said.
Fenrir narrowed his eyes at Trevor, “VeúlfR, do not ever say that shit to me again. Your fight is our fight, especially when it's with Christians.” He looked around at the Froekn, held out his arms, and shouted, “It's tradition!”
