17 It's All Norse! (Of Course)

My parents were reluctant to let me return to Hortense and warned me multiple times about drinking. But I'd be damned if something kept me from my Ecology 101 class.

"Ecology is the Earth in motion," said Dr. Crane, a woman with short black curls and skin the color of coffee. We were half an hour into the first day of class for spring semester. Dr. Crane adjusted her glasses. "I want you all to take a walk in the College Woods. Peel back bark and look for termites. Watch for birds – maybe a hawk, maybe an owl. Bring a journal and write down what you see. Think – what put these organisms there? Why are the trunks of the wetland trees near the lake swollen at their bases? What physiological processes are occurring in plants that lay dormant for the winter? Dig up roots, look for the nodules on legumes. Think about the symbiotic bacteria in them, without which there wouldn't be agriculture. Everything is balanced, like a top spinning."

She pulled the mentioned top from her pocket and set it twirling on her desk. It moved in lazy circles, then came to a stop. She caught it before it rolled to the floor.

Dr. Crane smiled. "There are inflows and outflows. Apex predators and detritovores. Everything has a place, a rhythm. When you walk in the woods, try and find yours."

I did just that. Gog and Magog sailed through the sky after me. I found a wolf spider and followed its scuttling trail, down a ravine to a creek. I looked at the markings on its abdomen and sketched them in my notebook. Water trickled by, laced with algae and sediment.

Next week, Dr. Crane asked me to visit her office after class. Nervous, I entered the airy room in the top floor of the biology building, to the right of the rooftop greenhouse. I sat in a cushy chair opposite her.

"Shannon O'Connor. It's nice to formally meet you," Dr. Crane said. A portable kettle whistled behind her. She swiveled in her chair to attend to it. "Would you like tea? I have earl gray and mint."

I relaxed my grip on the sides of my chair. "Mint would be great, thanks."

She fixed herself a drink and handed me my cup. "You must be wondering why I've asked you here."

"Um, yeah," I said.

Dr. Crane blew on her tea to cool it. "I looked over your assignment from last week - your nature walk observations. They're very detailed, like an ecologist's notebook. I can't help but see myself in you."

I blushed. "I don't know what to say. Thank you."

She nodded, smile warm. "I looked at your transcript. You have stellar grades, and I noticed you interned at a nature center the summer before you attended Hortense."

I nodded. "Yep. I did. It was great. I got to handle snakes and feed turtles."

"How fun. Hands-on experiences like that are one of the best ways to learn." Dr. Crane took a sip of her tea. "I feel that your passion and abilities qualify you for my lab. I'm always looking for enthusiastic students."

My eyes lit up. "Really?"

Dr. Crane set her mug down. "Yes. I noticed your interest in wolf spiders. Your sketch was very detailed. I'm an ornithologist by trade, but I dabble in entomology. My lab deals with evolutionary biology. I like to give my students leeway in their research and the opportunity to get a paper under their belts before graduation. Many of my students are published by the time they reach senior year. I could see you having the same success."

I looked at my feet. My blush deepened. "I don't know."

"Don't doubt yourself. Just because you're young doesn't mean you can't accomplish great things. I'm getting a new graduate student this month: Arietta Lovato. Perhaps you could work with her."

And that was how I ended up breeding spiders with a werewolf.

Arietta, Samael, and I sat at Damien's bar. Damien hummed along to Italian opera.

Samael couldn't stop laughing. "Hah! Let me get this straight. You're – aha – studying spider's sex lives? Isn't that a bit too deviant for you?"

I squeezed my mug of root beer. "I thought it was a good research idea – looking at how mate selection relates to predation."

"It is," Arietta said, nursing a beer. Her dreadlocks were woven with silver charms. "And sorry I didn't tell you I was going to Hortense for grad school. I wanted to surprise you. I'm studying red-cockaded woodpeckers. Dr. Crane's one of the best ornithologists in North America. It's amazing that I'm working with her on my Ph.D."

"That's my girl," Damien said, proud. "You always loved chasing birds, even when you were a pup."

"That's right, dad." Arietta smiled. "But I can help you with your study, Shannon. We can order supplies and raise the spiders together. I can help feed them."

Samael downed his absinthe. "I know. How about I lend you some of my crows? They can eat your spider sex club." Samael burst out laughing.

I glared at Samael. "It's not a spider sex club."

Samael snorted. "Right, I forgot – it's science."

Arietta narrowed her eyes. "You could learn something from us. Hell relies too much on magic. There's no place made for innovation. It's not valued. The only thing anyone cares about is tradition. There's no room for new ideas. Nothing changes. We should be more like humanity, more dynamic."

"I'll leave that to you," Samael said. He turned to Damien. "I remember when I was young and radical."

Anger flushed Arietta's face. "I'm not radical. I have good ideas, and so does my generation, if you and the other archdemons would just listen to us."

Samael steepled his fingers under his chin. "What are you suggesting?"

Arietta crossed her arms over her chest. Her tattooed knuckles made a statement under the bar-light. "Elections. You've grown corrupt. Maybe you can fool my father, but I see straight through you. You're selfish, and you've let Hell go to waste. We need a new government."

"Arietta!" Damien said. "Watch your muzzle"

"It's fine." Samael's eyes hardened. "Hell isn't a democracy, Arietta. We do things this way because it works. My people, you included, are constantly under siege, barely surviving by the skin on our teeth. In Hell, power rules. That's all."

"That's a weak excuse," I said. "Anyways, if you're so powerful, why did you faint when Sariel shot you with that adamant bullet thing?"

"Adamant?" Damien said. "When the hell did that happen?"

Samael's lips drew thin. "It's not important."

Damien's temple throbbed. "Only Metatron can make those – a few a year, at most – out of the Word of God. And Raziel the Secretkeeper guards them with utmost care. How did the Watchers get them?"

Samael grew irritated. "I don't know. Will you and your daughter let me drink my absinthe in peace?"

Damien gave a low growl. "No." He swiped Samael's absinthe from his hands. "Someone's supplying the bullets. Who?"

Samael snatched back his drink. "I don't know! You think I'm not devoting every resource to figuring out who the supplier is? The Watchers are elusive – how do you think they escaped Dudael? They've had centuries to plot their revenge. Who knows what allies they made during their imprisonment? Which angels visited them while they were in shackles? Azazel's persuasive, Semyaza even more so. They could have won dozens of angels to their side. Maybe even an archangel. But which one, and why? These are the questions that rob me of sleep." Samael hung his head. "I'm doing everything I can. They almost took Shannon." He balled his hands into fists. "To think of what they did to her. I can't live with myself, knowing what happened."

I put a hand on Samael's shoulder. "Hey. I'm okay."

He covered my hand with his. "But I'm not. I was supposed to protect you, and I couldn't." Samael looked at Damien's daughter. "I'm glad you're on campus with Shannon. It's an added level of safety."

Arietta nodded. "That's kind of the reason I applied to Hortense. I'll keep an eye out for danger."

Samael turned to Damien. "Shannon needs a new petersword."

Equipped with a new weapon, I went back to Samael's, and we trained. Midway through our session, Samael's phone rang.

"Hello?" Samael said. I tried to listen to the other line, but only heard indistinct chatter.

Samael cursed, then closed his phone.

"What's wrong?" I said.

"Loki just called. He's in a standoff with Michael. Heaven's moved on to the next phase of their plan. They're locking the portals from Earth to the otherworlds. They're trying to break the Bifrost bridge that leads to Asgard. Heimdall's hurt. He needs backup."

My eyes widened. "You know Loki? Isn't he an evil crossdresser?"

"Of course I know Loki. And he's not evil, just lukewarm. Come on, we have to go." Samael summoned a portal, supposedly to Viking heaven.

I didn't move. "Wait, what's Bifrost? Why is Michael breaking it? Who's Heimdall?"

Samael bit his lip in irritation. "It's a rainbow that connects Earth to Asgard. Heimdall is Bifrost's guardian. If he's down, that means they're close to severing Asgard's connection to Earth." He pulled me into the black void.

We emerged in chaos. Blood on mossy fields, innards strewn across flowers. Berserkers in bearskin fought against veiled angels. Valkyries flew above, like something from a Wagner opera. A city of silver and wood rose in the distance, and before me was a great gulf into darkness, spanned by a glimmering bridge.

I summoned my petersword. A swarthy man with gold teeth clutched his guts. He struggled to rise at the foot of Bifrost. Michael stood above him, his flaming sword held high.

"Surrender," Michael said.

Heimdall spat blood at Michael's feet. "I'd rather Yggdrasil burn than wave the white flag for you."

Michael's smile was thin. "It will burn if you do nothing."

Thunder clashed above Michael's head, and over his shoulder a chariot descended, pulled by giant goats. The vehicle carried a burly man with a hammer. The attacker drove his weapon into Michael's shoulder.

Lightning exploded from the impact. Michael flew off Bifrost and plummeted into the darkness. The angels swarmed, and the chariot raced after him.

"Thor," Samael said. "But where are Odin and Loki?"

"Here," came a gravelly voice. I turned to see a hoary man with an eye-patch beat down angels with his staff. He charged forward on an eight-legged steed. Behind him was an elfish-looking figure. He shot plumes of fire from his fingertips, incinerating Heaven's army.

"Just in time, Sam," said the fire-setter.

"What the hell happened, Loki?" Samael said, guarding me from an attacking angel.

Loki shrugged. "I went for a walk. Everything was fine. I came back, everything was on fire. Usually that's my doing, but I couldn't remember incinerating anything, so I assumed the worst."

The hoary man pummeled a cherubim. His horse reared.

"Are you Gandalf?" I said.

The rider gave a rough laugh. "Better than Gandalf. Is she the ascendant?"

Samael chopped an angel in two. Chunks of its brains flew onto my pants. "Of course, Odin. Why else would I bring her?"

I wiped the gore from my jeans and felt bile rise in my throat. "Um, what do I do?"

Samael's face was grim. "We need to force Michael and the angels back through the heaven's gate." He pointed to a white hole in the sky. "I need you to close it."

My stomach sunk. "I'll have to fly again, won't I?" My phobia of heights plucked my nerves like guitar strings.

Samael nodded. "Odin, Loki, can you take care of Michael? We're going for Adam's reincarnation."

Loki grinned. "Are you kidding me? Getting rid of stick-up-his-ass will be like swatting a fly."

"Don't underestimate Michael, blood-brother," Odin said. They charged at Odin's signal, riding over the gulf and into the darkness. Lightning from Thor's hammer shot over the lip of the cliff, and furious cries rose through the mist.

Samael turned to me. "I know I'm asking a lot of you. But it's the only way. Asgard's desperate."

"What, possessing me?"

Samael nodded.

I swallowed the bile in my throat. "Okay."

Pain shot through me as Samael settled into my bones. Shadowy wings sprouted from my back, and I took off.

Relax. I'll handle this.

My limbs moved of their own accord as I diced angels to bits, severing their wings, cutting off hands. Samael's bloodlust burned in my gut. Asgard's forces corralled the angels towards the heaven's gate and drove them back until only Michael was left, warring against Odin, Loki, and Thor.

Loki flew, aided by a feather cloak, and Odin's steed raced across the air like it was earth. They wove circles around Michael, who lashed out with his flaming sword. Michael drew a shallow cut from Loki's shoulder, and Loki fell back. Finally, there was an opening, and I sailed towards Michael, petersword raised.

Disgust clouded Michael's face. "You're possessing her? Only you would stoop so low."

"Samael's not the one attacking innocents," I said, petersword singing as it met Michael's sword. I parried his strike.

Michael's eyes seared. "Asgard is hardly innocent. Odin's warmongering knows no bounds, and Loki's mischief has brought ruin to worlds. They're false spirits devoid of souls. They must be purged in God's name."

"You're justifying genocide," I said. "Your Father is insane."

I misstepped. Michael's sword was at my throat. It was a cold fire – it didn't burn.

"You've been drinking Samael's poison," Michael said. "He's feeding you lies."

"All I see is blood," I said. "Please. Don't hurt me."

Michael lowered his sword. His face darkened. "I can't hurt you," he said softly. "Father wouldn't want that, nor would I. You're His daughter, just like I am His son."

Samael snarled. Father's gone. How can Michael know what He wants? None of us know what He wants - what the damn point to all this suffering is.

"Sam, calm down," I said. His anger made my grip on the petersword unsteady.

Michael furrowed his brows. He looked to Odin and Thor, who had their weapons pointed at him, then back over his shoulder, to where Henry was silhouetted against the heaven's gate, keeping the portal open. Michael spoke: "My twin will corrupt you, just like he did Eve. You'll wake up with your life in ruins and your dreams burned to ash. Do you want that?"

Arrogant bastard.

"I'd rather throw my dice with Samael than with Heaven," I said.

"So be it." Michael flew into the white portal. Henry lowered his petersword, and the heaven's gate began to shrink.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Henry said.

"Fixing the damage you've caused," I said.

"Damage? What kind of Christian do you fancy yourself?" Henry said. "These tools are demons. You're supposed to kill the evil buggers."

"I'm agnostic!" I said.

"Whatever. Guess I'll see you around." The gate closed.

Time to lock it.

I twisted my petersword and sealed the portal.

"Woo!" Loki said. He clapped me on the back. Blood flowed onto his feather cloak. "What style. Sam, that was genius – using the girl to play on Michael's heartstrings."

We landed in the ruins of Asgard. Samael poured out of me in black smoke. I coughed and sunk to the ground.

"Shannon?" Samael said, kneeling beside me.

"I'm fine." I sputtered.

Samael helped me up. I leaned against him, weak.

"Michael could have slit my throat," I said, my voice hoarse.

"My brother wouldn't do that," Samael said.

"Like that makes it any better?" I said.

We walked to a great wooden hall on the outskirts of Asgard. Sea goddesses were putting out fires and valkyries were collecting the dead. Odin watched atop his steed as the wounded filed in through the entrance. Loki followed us, clutching his injured shoulder.

"Close call, eh?" Loki said. He went to the side of a golden-haired woman who was tending to Heimdall. "How is he, Idunn?"

Idunn pressed a compress to Heimdall's brow. "Recuperating. Get me an apple, from my basket over there. I'll tend to you next."

Loki did as she said.

"Why don't they automatically heal like you?" I asked Samael.

Samael sat at a long table and motioned for me to join him. "The Norse gods are more mortal than immortal. They eat Idunn's apples to remain youthful. She's critical to their survival."

Idunn grinned. "That's probably the only compliment you've ever given me, except for that time you were trying to be Loki's wingman."

"I meant every word of that," Samael said.

I sat down at a long hall table. Food materialized before me – roast pig stuffed with apples, a flagon of mead, stew, and hearty bread. Samael downed the mead. Hunger reared in my stomach.

A cold wind came from behind me. I turned to see Odin, his eyes like storms. "Help yourself. You need your strength," he said. Two ravens perched on his shoulders. He petted one's neck. It croaked in appreciation. "Sam, I trust Gerd and Magni are well?"

Samael nodded. "They are. Very trusty birds. I gave them to Shannon."

I paused between bites of bread. "Wait – Gog and Magog?"

Odin chuckled low. "You renamed them? Well, I hope they serve you well." Odin raised a horn of mead. "To your propitious arrival."

Loki, his shoulder bandaged, clacked his flagon against Odin's cup. "Cheers."

I spent the night enthralled by Loki's tales and Odin's riddles, none of which I guessed right. Thor came in midway through the evening and challenged me to a match of Hnefatafl, which was basically Viking chess. I lost miserably.

"You have no mind for strategy," Samael said.

I glared at him. "Yeah? You haven't seen me play checkers. I'm lethal."

Thor laughed. "We have a checkers set somewhere. Loki picked it up at a Toys-R-Us when he was getting the newest Pokémon game."

"It's on," I said.

Thor produced the board game. I was red, Samael black. A battle ensued.

"King me," I said.

Samael narrowed his eyes. "How did you do that?"

"King me again!"

I won.

I cracked my knuckles. "Aren't you supposed to be unbeatable?"

Samael frowned. "You're thinking of chess."

"Does this mean I get a year added to my life?"

"Don't push it."