Across the street, the thudding basketball went silent.
Cody came tearing around the block, moving so fast he was a uniformed blur, his eyes flaring phosphorescent green. I caught a glimpse of his face, and it was distorted with fury. Like, really distorted, as in he was beginning to shape-shift. With a growl, he flung Al away from me and up against the wall of the bakery, pressing one forearm hard across his throat.
The big ghoul laughed. “Oh, he’s an angry pup!” He licked his lips again, eyes glittering. “I’ll take that, too.”
Cody backed away uncertainly, shaking his head in confusion. “No feeding on the unwilling.” His voice sounded thick and strange, maybe because his mouth suddenly had too many pointed white teeth in it. His ears were awfully pointy, too. And furry. He bared his teeth and laid his ears flat against his head. “You know the rules.”
“Yeah.” Al’s pupils shrank, then dilated. His gaze fixed on me, his leer returning. “But rules were made to be broken.”
From across the street came the sound of running feet. “Hey!” one of the basketball players called. “Hang on; we’re coming to help!”
I grabbed Cody’s arm. “Mundanes coming, Officer Down-low.” He glanced at me in the dim light, his ears twitching slightly. I gave his arm a shake. “Better rustle up some of that famous self-discipline and get ahold of yourself.”
In the few seconds it took him to reassert control, Al the Walrus took off across the park at a dead run, moving surprisingly fast himself for a bulky guy, and the basketball players arrived. From the far side of the park came the distinctive sound of a Harley-Davidson roaring to life.
“Hey, hey, everything okay?” one of the ballplayers asked anxiously. “You okay, lady? We heard a scream.”
“I’m fine.” I made myself smile at him, keeping my grip on Cody’s arm. “Just some pervert. I was lucky Officer Fairfax was just around the corner.”
“Yeah.” The ballplayer glanced at Cody with awe. “Dude, that was sick. You’ve got some mad speed.”
“I shouldn’t have let him get away.” Cody sounded disgruntled, but his voice was normal again. So was his face. Full control, huh?
“It’s okay.” I squeezed his arm. “We know where to find him. Thanks,” I said to the ballplayers. “Everything’s okay, really.”
“You’re sure?”
I nodded. “Positive. But I appreciate it. You were collectively awesome.”
“Thanks, guys,” Cody added, extricating his arm from my grasp. “Nice work. I’ll take it from here.”
They drifted amiably back across the street, four college-age kids by the look of them, frat boys maybe, not much different from Thad Vanderhei and his friends. Except these guys had run to the aid of a lady being attacked by a ghoul, even if they hadn’t known that was what they were doing, and Thad Vanderhei and his friends had done . . . what? We still didn’t know, except that it involved ghouls and ended with dumping Thad’s body in the river.
“That settles it,” Cody said.
“It does?” Lost in my thoughts, I had no idea what he was talking about.
“Pack a bag.” He nodded at the side door. “You don’t want to stay at a friend’s place, fine. You’re not staying here, not until we pick up Al.”
“And charge him with what?” I asked.
“Assault.”
“He never laid a hand on me,” I said. “The police can’t enforce Hel’s rules, Cody. That’s my job. If this Stefan Ludovic is really in charge of ghoul territory here, that’s who I have to report Al to.”
That muscle in his jaw twitched. “You expect him to do something about it?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I do. If he wants to stay in charge, he has to.”
“Unless he’s at the bottom of this business,” Cody said grimly. “We didn’t have this kind of trouble before he showed up.”
I stifled a yawn. “Well, if he is, then I’ll have to report him to Hel. If he’s broken mundane laws, we’ll have to negotiate between authorities. But right now, I’m not going anywhere but to bed.”
“Right,” he said. “So pack a bag. You’re staying at my place.”
Another time, I would have jumped at the opportunity. But I was tired and cranky. I’d started my day at the crack of dawn being insulted by naiads, and ended it with a totally creepy encounter with a hungry ghoul who’d apparently fixated on my tasty, tasty emotions. In between, I’d learned that it looked like we were dealing with a murder; I’d managed to further alienate my estranged best friend; and Cody’s response to my declaration of affection could pretty much be summed up as dismissive.
“No,” I said. “Look, I don’t think Al’s coming back tonight. I’ll keep my doors locked. Mrs. Browne will be here in a few hours.” I put my hand on the doorknob. “I’m staying.”
Cody placed his hand flat on the door, holding it shut. “No, you’re not.”
“Yeah, I am.”
He raised his voice. “No, you’re not!”
Before I could summon a suitably immature retort, a dune buggy pulled into the alley.
Oh, crap.
Cody lifted one hand to shield his eyes against the glare of headlights. “Hey, there!” he called out. “This isn’t a through street.”
The headlights blinked out, and a large figure climbed out of the buggy, raising its left hand. The spear-headed rune Teiwaz, indicating one of Hel’s guards, shimmered silvery on its palm. “Daisy Johanssen?”
I sighed and lifted my left hand in answer. “Yeah, hi. Nice to see you again.”
The figure inclined its head. Now that I wasn’t blinded by headlights, I could make out who and what it was. To mundane eyes, it would appear to be an ogreishly tall, long-haired, and bearded man sweating profusely—and I do mean profusely, actual rivulets running down his skin and dripping from his beard to puddle on the concrete beneath him. I, on the other hand, saw an ogreishly tall man with bluish skin rimed with melting frost, his eyes as pale and colorless as dirty slush, icicles dripping from his head and chin to puddle on the concrete.
Cody’s hand dropped instinctively to his holster. “What in the hell is that?”
“Frost giant,” I said. “His name’s Mikill. It means ‘big,’ right? Or ‘large’?”
“True.” Mikill lowered his hand. “Daisy Johanssen, I am bid to summon you to an audience with Hel.”
Great.
Fifteen
At least it put an end to my argument with Cody. Even a stubborn werewolf on the down-low knew I couldn’t ignore a summons from Hel herself.
“I don’t mean to belabor the obvious, but will he”—Cody lowered his voice—“melt?”
I shook my head, climbing into the passenger seat of the dune buggy and putting on my seat belt. “Not anytime soon.”
“So, you’ll—”
“I’ll see you at the station!” I had to shout the words as Mikill clambered into the driver’s seat and turned the key in the ignition. “Tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay!”
A wash of cool air, accompanied by a pelting of icy droplets, rolled off Mikill and gusted over me as we headed out of town.
“Forgive me.” The frost giant shot me an apologetic look. “It cannot be helped.”
I shivered. “I know.”
Steering with one massive hand, Mikill reached into the tiny storage area in the back and hauled out a thick fur coat. “Here.”
I draped it over me, snuggling under it. “Thanks.”
The Pemkowet Dune Rides was a mile or so north of downtown, its gaily painted sign promising thrilling family-friendly fun, vistas of the lake, and even a glimpse of Yggdrasil II, the famous world tree. At this hour, it was closed for the night, all the big, tricked-out dune schooners in their stables, the windows of the gift shop dark. Mikill gunned the engine and roared around the establishment on a narrow side track before plunging into the wooded dunes beyond. Bouncing involuntarily in the seat, I clung tight to the roll bar as we hurtled into the darkness, careening around steeply banked curves at death-defying speeds. In daylight it might be exhilarating. At night, lit only by the buggy’s headlights, it was pretty much heart-stopping. I admit, I closed my eyes a few times.
The official Dune Rides trails were graded and maintained, both for the sake of safety and the environment. They had to be. Sand dunes are sort of like living things. They don’t stay put, moving and shifting, especially if they’re not anchored by indigenous flora.
This fact escaped the attention of the settlers of Singapore, who built a logging town here on the shores of Lake Michigan in the 1800s.
Yeah, a logging town. Brilliant, right?
And once they’d cut down a sufficient number of white pine trees, the dunes rolled over the town and pretty much swallowed it. Talman “Tall Man” Brannigan, the lumber baron responsible, slaughtered his entire family in a fit of madness and despair. Supposedly, the Tall Man’s ghost roams the dunes wailing for forgiveness, and if you see him, it means you’re going to die.
According to local legend, Hel moved into town during World War I. It is a fact that the most powerful earthquake ever recorded in Michigan took place in the late summer of 1914, which was when Yggdrasil II was first spotted erupting from the sands. It’s pretty tough to hide a pine tree the size of a large missile silo.
And yes, I know, the original Yggdrasil was an ash tree. Like any immigrants, even goddesses have to adapt. Apparently the species of tree wasn’t as important as having the Norns water its roots. I don’t know; I’m not an expert.
Altogether too soon we crested a rise, and the buggy’s headlights tagged the mammoth tree in the distance. This was where the tourists would be let out to gape at Yggdrasil II and enjoy a photo op, and the schooner driver would tell them about Garm, the terrible hellhound who guards the world tree, warning them not to think of getting any closer.