Page 39 of The Fanged One

"I don't want to ruin my aesthetic."

Fenris went back to his pile of books while Tor helped Von with the new chest. Linnea was still bent over a folio with Layla and didn't look up when he passed.

She is hiding, his wolf said.

I heard you the first time.

Do something.

She has not asked me to do anything. I won't crowd her.

His wolf made a sound between a growl and a hiss and lapsed back into silence. It didn't understand that sometimes humans just needed to be alone with their thoughts before they talked about what was bothering them. Knowing that didn't stop him from wanting to pin her down and demand to know who hurt her.

By the time the windows above the back garden had gone the slate blue that came before the streetlamps, the big kitchen table was buried under sorted piles. Von had marked three pages with red ribbon, fifteen with blue, and one with a small gold tag he wouldn't let anyone touch. Whatever system he was sorting them into was known only to himself.

"That one is the maybe," he said when Layla asked. "That one is the maybe of the maybe."

"You should probably try to sleep, Von," Ciara suggested, patting him on the back.

"I slept for four hours last night. It was glorious."

"That is a power nap, not proper rest."

"And what is a power nap if not sleep with ambition?" Von kissed her on the cheek. "Off you go. Home, all of you. Come back at eight tomorrow morning unless I call earlier."

"You aren't going into the club tonight?" Layla asked.

"Gods, no. I have a real job to do right now. The staff will take care of the club. Now, off you go."

The hallway by the front door was full moments later. Arne was holding Layla's coat for her, which she allowed with a fond shove. Ciara had her arm already hooked through Tor's.

Linnea came down the hall last, sweater pulled down over her hands, and a blank expression on her face. Tor met her at the door, slipped an arm around her shoulders, and walked her out. He bent his head to listen to whatever she said as they went down the front steps.

Fenris was the last out. He pulled the heavy front door shut behind him and stood on the step. Tor opened the passenger door for Linnea and helped her in. He closed it after her and came around the front of the car. His eyes met Fenris's across the hood.

Fenris walked the length of the car and stopped a pace short of him. "What is wrong with her? She is upset."

Tor looked at his sister through the windshield, where she was already turned toward the dashboard and pretending to find something on her phone.

"I don't know," Tor replied, keeping his voice lowered. "We are going for a run tonight, so the girls can find out. Don't worry. There is nothing that Ciara and Layla can't find out when they put their mind to it."

Fenris hoped he was right because his little singer was miserable, and he couldn't help but feel like he was to blame.

20

Layla had the wine cork out before the shimmer of Arne's portal had disappeared.

"To the women," she announced, pouring three large glasses without measuring. "Who are about to spend tonight not thinking about the end of the world!"

"To the women," Ciara echoed, dropping onto the long couch with her legs already up. "Long may we reign."

Linnea took her own glass and curled up beside her. The apartment was different with the men gone. The pressure that had been sitting in her gut all day slid down a notch on the first sip.

Fenris's presence filled whatever space he was in. It had to be some kind of god aura because every time he was in a room with her, half of her was tuned into him at all times. With him out in the woods north of Oslo with Tor and Arne, the rest of her could finally hear itself think.

"This is the best idea you have ever had," she told them, after another mouthful of wine.

"Whatever. I have lots of good ideas," Layla said, scrolling through Tor's TV with one bare foot tucked under her. "Where the fuck is Castlevania on this thing? Ever since Linnea mentioned it, I must have Dracula."