The wolf huffed, put his head down, and trotted forward again. Barefoot, half naked, nearly bankrupt of superpowers, and exhausted from fighting mythological creatures, I should have let the wolf go. If I’d had an ounce of sense, I would have returned to Thorin’s side. In my imagination, I heard him and Skyla screaming at me, begging me not to do this. I shut those voices out.

If the wolf veered off into an unpopulated area or tried to lead me into an enclosed area, I would go back, but until then, I’d follow him through the crowds. I needed to find out who he was and what he wanted with me.

No, not me. Thorin. Before I had intervened, the wolf’s attention had been focused on Thorin. If that wolf is who I think he is, his interest in Thorin over me would make sense.

The people around us had stopped screaming. Those who’d parted to allow the wolf’s progress stared back and forth between us, probably wondering if they’d happened upon a reality TV show filming live on location or maybe a shocking new street-magician performance. I had Hollywood to thank for creating a culture in which the average Joe accepted special effects trickery as an explanation for paranormal activity. In fact, several people had pulled out cell phones to record the encounter.

Someone stepped out of the crowd beside me and put a hand on my shoulder. “Solina.”

I flinched and spun around to face a man I hadn’t expected to see but was rather glad to have at my side. “Baldur? Where did you come from?”

“Thorin called. He told me which way you had gone, and you weren’t hard to follow. What do you think you’re doing out here on your own?”

I turned to the wolf, but he was gone. I stumbled forward, intending to run after him, but Baldur drew me back. “Come with me. Help me... please?” I tugged on him, urging him to follow me. The stern expression on his face softened. “Please?”

“You’re in no state to be chasing wolves.” He frowned at me, but then he glanced down at the sidewalk as if searching for the wolf. “Go back to the hotel, and help Thorin. You need to get him out before Helen sends reinforcements or the mortal authorities arrive. Call the Valkyries; tell them what happened. I’ll see if I can track down this wolf. I’ll catch up with you again in a little while.”

My ears popped, and Baldur vanished before I could say anything. If people around me noticed Baldur’s disappearance, they kept it to themselves. When the wolf had moved on, so did their attention. A few curious types glanced at my disheveled appearance, but when I turned on my heel and limped to the hotel, most avoided eye contact and pretended not to see me.

When I reached the hotel room, I found Thorin in the same place I’d left him, sitting near the patio doorway in a puddle of blood and broken glass, keeping the company of several shattered stone men and one badly charred human—still breathing, but for how long? I gulped and looked away, not allowing myself to contemplate my own guilt or moral failings.

Kill or be killed. That’s the world I live in now. Maybe that was the world Sol had always lived in. And Thorin lived there, too. Maybe it was time to cut him some slack.

I stepped over broken glass, found a pair of jeans, and slid them on. I shoved my feet into a pair of Adidas slides I found by the side of the bed—Skyla’s, I presumed. Then I knelt beside the bruised and beaten God of Thunder.

He peeled open his eyes and peered at me. A flurry of expressions passed over his face: relief, anger, pain. “Baldur says I need to get you out of here,” I said. “I tend to agree. Who knows what’s coming for us next?”

“Where is Baldur?”

“Chasing that wolf. He said he’d catch up with us later.”

“That wasn’t Skoll.”

“I know.” Neither of us seemed to want to explore the wolf’s identity.

He shook his head and closed his eyes. His head fell back against the wall. “We’ll let Baldur deal with it. You and I need to get moving.”

“What about—” I stopped and swallowed. “What about Amala? Is she... “

He rolled his shoulder—the one not covered in blood. “I haven’t heard anything from the other room. That headless golem stumbled over here a few minutes ago.” He pointed into the courtyard. Another stone body, crumbled to gravel, lay several yards away. “I finished him off.”

I caught my lip between my teeth and bit down, hard, using the pain to chase away my tears. I rose to my feet. “I’ll be right back.”

Thorin said nothing but closed his eyes again and nodded.

I stepped over another corpse into the living room, into a showcase of horrors. Rubble, demolished furniture, bodies, blood. Everywhere, blood. Detachment, I told myself. Compartmentalize. Focus on Amala.

I found the Valkyrie lying behind the sofa in a dark, sticky puddle. Black holes—bullet wounds, I supposed—riddled her chest. Another shot had gouged a hole in her cheek. Empty eyed and motionless, Amala stared up at the ceiling. I touched her neck in a hopeful gesture, but her skin was as cold as the marble floor. Bile rose up in my throat. I turned aside and vomited. Why try to fight it? What did it matter if I added to the gore?

When my legs allowed for it, I rose and stepped away from Amala, rubbing my mouth and urging my stomach to settle. Setting my gaze on the doorway of my bedroom, I stumbled to Thorin’s side. “We’ve got to get moving. Please tell me you have one magical mystery tour left in you.”

He peeled his eyes open. “What?”

“Can you blip us to the 4Runner?”

“Amala?”

I shook my head and looked away.

“Okay, get an arm around me.” He struggled to get to his feet. “We’ll see how much gas is left in my tank.”

Turned out his gas tank was on E. He shifted us only as far as the edge of the courtyard. I tugged on him and shoved my shoulder into his armpit. He grunted and lumbered forward. “C’mon, Holy Thunder,” I urged. “You can move faster than that.”

He grimaced. “Holy Thunder? That’s the best you can do?”

Half jogging, half limping, we rounded the corner of our private yard and stumbled into the alleyway. I turned us, and we staggered toward the parking deck. “Please tell me you have the keys in your pocket.”

He grunted again and tried to stand up straighter. He pulled me close, and we blipped again and arrived at the parking deck entrance.

“I thought you were empty.”

“Second wind.” His eyes rolled up into his head. He nearly fell face first onto the asphalt, taking me down with him.

“Thorin.” I wheezed and braced my legs against the pull of his weight. “No time for this. You’re a freaking giant. I can’t carry you.”

He shook off his dizziness and wobbled onto his feet. Blood coated his shirt and covered me in warm, gummy red. “You love it,” he muttered. “Finally, an excuse to get your hands all over me.”

“You’re right. I can do better. Move your ass, Your Royal Norseness. Boy Thunder. Lord of the Rain Dance...” By employing a steady stream of sarcasm and a weary shoulder, I managed to guide him through the parking deck gate and into the elevator. We collapsed into a bloody pile on the floor. “Where’s the SUV?”

“The valet parked it.”

“How are we going to find it?”

He pulled the key fob from his pocket. “Open the door again.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

I pressed the arrow button, and the elevator’s sliding doors parted. Thorin thumbed a button on the key ring, and we listened for car alarms. Nothing. “Second floor,” he said.

We repeated the routine until we found the racket of honking horn and electronic bells and whistles on the fourth floor. I helped him to his feet, and we struggled across the concrete parking deck, following our ears until we located the SUV. He handed me the keychain. I stared at him, mouth agape. “You deign to let me drive?”

“Only on my deathbed.”

“That better not be true.” After settling Thorin in his seat, I slammed the door, jogged around to the driver’s side, and slid into place behind the wheel. Even though I doubted it offered much protection, I pressed the door lock, and the ka-chunk of the mechanisms engaging was a sweet, sweet sound.

“Back to New Breidablick?” I reversed from the parking space.