Jewels and Feathers (Race Games 3)

CHAPTERSIX

Muni ended up taking the three men back to the hotel room she’d booked for a single evening, simply so they would have someplace to speak. In the morning, they would board the private jet she’d chartered to take them back to Boston, but this evening, they needed to get things straight. It had taken longer to arrive back at the hotel than she’d hoped but when two men were dressed as Vikings and walking along the streets of Norway, the tourists flocked. After the third photo and Vidar snarling at the tourists in a way that left the people excited and Vidar thoroughly confused about how social media worked, Muni had rushed them away, declining any further photos. Brin, to his credit, had seemed to enjoy posing for the photos despite not knowing precisely what they were doing. He’d died long before modern photography but reveled in making angry faces for the tourists.

That was how Muni found herself sitting on the sofa with her feet tucked up underneath her, a hot cup of tea in her hands. Vidar stood by the windows, looking out over what Norway had become. He didn’t seem pleased with the picture and Muni couldn’t blame him. She, too, missed the clear air of the Norway from long ago. Brin picked over the food on the cart, putting it away faster than room service could bring it. She’d ordered one of everything to feed the men, adding multiples of the meat thinking they would like their protein. She’d been right. Eirik sat on the opposite sofa, a plate on his lap that he picked at between bouts of deep thinking.

“You wanted to know precisely why you’re here,” Muni began, drawing all three pairs of eyes toward her. “To explain, I must first tell you who I am.”

Eirik set down his fork, the only one of the three to actually use the silverware, and focused entirely on her. Brin came over to the sofa with a steak clasped in his hand as he tore chunks from it with his teeth. Vidar didn’t move, simply stood guard at the window as if he was prepared to make a quick escape. The joke would be on him. The windows in these places didn’t open any more. He’d have to burst through the glass to find a way out.

“You said you’re Munin,” Eirik pointed out.

“I am. I was once one of a pair of Odin’s spies, but long ago, he retired us when he decided to take a more hands-off approach to the nine realms. Most were peaceful, but he decided, especially here on Midgard, that it was best to leave each realm to their own devices. If they descended into war, that was not his problem, and so Hugin and I were set free of our duties.”

“So you stopped being spies?” Brin asked.

“Not exactly,” Muni shook her head. “Just because we were released of our duties did not mean we lost the impulse to collect secrets. I’ll admit, for many years, my brother and I were lost without purpose. When we realized secrets still held power, we began collecting not for Odin, but for ourselves.”

Vidar snorted. “Blackmail is a coward’s game.”

Muni turned her eyes on the Viking who insisted on being as steely as possible. “Perhaps it is, but it’s also a profitable one. You’ll find, in this new century, money speaks far louder than an axe does.”

“But I wouldn’t feel the satisfaction of crushing my enemies skull beneath it,” he argued, rolling his eyes as if that was the answer to everything.

“You’d be surprised what money allows you to do to your enemies,” Eirik murmured, looking away from them all toward the food cart. Without waiting for anyone to say anything, he stood and picked up the coffee carafe, pouring himself a cup before taking his seat again.

“Precisely. Hug and I began to amass our fortune long ago, but as with all wealth comes mediocrity. We grew bored with the lives we built and began to thirst for adrenaline. Whether that was through bringing down the scum of the world or entering the Games, it didn’t matter. We needed an outlet for our skills.”

“You’ve mentioned the Games before,” Brin pointed out. “We used to toss logs and see who threw the furthest when I was a boy. Is it like that?”

“Before the 1900s, the Games was a mixture of exactly that. They were played mostly on foot. Sometimes they were simply competitions of who could do what the best. Sometimes it was an obstacle course. Either way, they all had one thing in common: Many died while playing the Games and whoever won walked away with something that was worth more than most could ever hope for. They were only entered by the supernatural races. Humans, when they joined in, didn’t last long traditionally.”

Eirik leaned forward. “But they’re not played that way anymore?”

“It’s called the Race Games now,” Muni continued. “You enter with a car and it’s a vehicle race. However, it’s just as deadly. Most don’t make it out alive and those that do often walk away with injuries. It’s always an obstacle course filled with traps and triggers. It’s not a pretty sight, but for some, it’s the only way to earn the prizes.”

Vidar seemed unconcerned with what Muni was speaking of. Brin was listening intently, but it was Eirik that held up his hand to interrupt. “Wait, you said supernatural races. . .”

“Correct. I’m a Raven so I don’t belong in any one race, but the Crows have accepted me into their ranks as an honorary member, just as they did my brother so long ago. Besides the Crows, there are many creatures including vampires, werewolves, elves, fae. . .you get the idea.”

Eirik blinked at her as he’d never heard of them before, but Vidar and Brin didn’t seem surprised. They wouldn’t. In the olden days, supernatural creatures didn’t have to hide as much as they did now. Back then, they were respected and avoided at all costs. Scandinavia had a long history with the fae alone, even if there were not frequent meetings between the two.

“And the Games were organized by these creatures?” Brin asked, ripping another piece of meat away from the steak and chewing. At least he seemed to have some manners and closed his mouth while he chewed, but that was the extent of it. Muni watched a drop of steak juice trail down his forearm that he didn’t even try to catch with a wince.

“No one knows who put the Games together. It’s only known that they’re organized by the Supe High Council, but no one knows if there’s someone above them. There are rumors that the Games were organized by the highest among the supernatural community as a means to cull the population.”

Eirik sat back on the sofa, his mug still cradled in his hand. Muni could smell the intoxicating scent of the coffee in his cup, was tempted to get some herself, but if she drank it this late, she’d never get to sleep. Not to mention, she’d have to go fly off some of the energy to avoid growing anxious with inaction. He seemed content to absorb all this new information but of the three, Muni didn’t think he had much to absorb. Sure, supernatural creatures being real was new to him, but for Vidar and Brin, the entire world had changed. She hadn’t even turned on the television yet to show them but likely, they would be amazed by the magic of this century’s technology.

Brin polished off the steak and wiped his arm on the back of the sofa, leaving behind a grease stain that would never come out. Muni winced again at the thought of the amount the hotel would charge for the cleaning even if she had plenty of money to spare. It never felt good to part with money uselessly. Standing, Muni grabbed one of the cloth napkins from the cart and tossed it at Brin.

“This isn’t a ship full of barbarians,” she grunted. “Keep the mess to a minimum.”

Brin froze and then dutifully picked up the napkin to begin scrubbing at the spot on the couch. As expected, it didn’t come off and he sheepishly licked his thumb and rubbed harder.

“All of this nonsense you speak,” Vidar growled. “But you’ve not once said why we’re here.”

Muni nodded and loaded a plate full of the fruit Brin hadn’t touched. “You’re right. I’m only trying to give you as much information as possible.” She picked at the berries happily, popping a fresh blueberry in her mouth and humming. Brin watched the action hungrily. Eirik was once again lost in thought, but Vidar was focused entirely on Muni. “In 1958, my brother, Hug stumbled onto a secret that he wasn’t meant to find. Someone was rigging the Race Games for their own personal gain, but no one knew who was pulling the strings. He entered the Games with the intention of winning the Council Position up for grabs.” Muni frowned at the memory. “He’d been excited at the prospect of the challenge—we never could resist a good secret—but despite all that, he was wise enough to insist I sit out the race rather than be his teammate. Our very nature breeds enemies, and so I was to keep my ear to the wind while Hug won the race. We both assumed he would survive as nothing flies faster than us, even behind a wheel. I can only assume the one pulling the strings realized what we were trying to do, and before Hug could cross the finish line and win the council spot, his car exploded.”

Eirik blinked. “He died.”

Muni nodded. “We both did. We were brother and sister, two sides of the same coin. When one died, the other followed. Because he died in battle, he went to Valhalla. I went to Hel and was reincarnated years later.”

“You’re entering the Race Games again to discover who was responsible,” Brin nodded. “Vengeance is an emotion I understand.”

“Not only will I find out who killed Hug, but I’m going to expose the council. I have no doubt that whoever is pulling the strings is powerful. Once they find out my intentions, I’ll likely have a bigger target on my back that there already is. I’ve managed to keep my reincarnation mostly a secret, but when the names of the Race Teams are revealed, the entire world will know who I am. The three of you will race with me, assisting me in weaponry and navigation throughout the races. I can’t do it alone.”

“Does anyone every go it alone?” Eirik asked.

“A kelpie enters nearly every race alone. She’s been a part of eighteen races now and survives each and every one, without a teammate.”

“A warrior,” Brin smirks. “I like the sounds of this kelpie. Tell me, do they still drown men?”

“When the fancy strikes them,” Muni shrugged.

Vidar finally moved from his position by the window, coming over to stand in front of Muni. Even with her standing, he looked down upon her, his structure so large, it was easy to understand why he was once a strong leader. Muni remembered conversations he’d parted to her, but he likely didn’t know who she was. She’d worn her feathers then, had been nothing more than a Raven he shared bread with, but the longer she was around him, the more she remembered the memories.

“You should just let it go. Revenge only leads to disappointment. Finding out who killed your brother won’t bring him back,” he said, kinder words than he’d given before. It was almost like he was trying to coax her in the direction he wanted, but Ravens weren’t stupid. There was a reason they were considered intelligent birds, and Muni was no idiot.

“As you’ve let things go yourself?” she asked, meeting his gaze. His face hardened but he didn’t respond. “I’m not trying to bring Hug back. If I could, I would, but that isn’t what this is about. The world shouldn’t be played like a game of Chess. Freewill is important, and the Council and the Race Games are purposely working things to their advantage, serving only the rich and making others think there’s glory in the Games. There’s only death, and I intend to uncover it and punish those who play with the lives of our people.”

“So, we just need to win the race then?” Eirik asked when Vidar refused to answer. Though Muni had thought him the weaker of the three, it wasn’t so. While he was physically smaller and likely not trained in battle, his brain was sharp. She could feel the intelligence there.

Muni shook her head. “Win or lose, I care only to reveal the corruption in the games and who killed my brother. They killed him for a reason, purposely didn’t want him on the Council. I intend to find out why.”

“You think he would have found out their secrets?” Brin asked.

“I know he would have. Hug was always the more noble between us. He would have sniffed out the rat before the rat knew he had done so, pulling their strings until he owned them all and they would have been none the wiser. Either way, I’m going to find out who’s behind the decisions.”

“And what’s in it for you?” Vidar asked. “Or us for that matter. What do you get once you find the secret?”

Muni met his eyes. “Revenge, warrior. I get revenge.” Her eyes narrowed. “And you get Valhalla again.”