I can make some calls. There is a guy. Dagfinn Heyerdahl. He used to be with Norse Heritage Foundation." Norse Heritage Foundation wasn't so much about heritage as it was about viking, in the most cliché sense of the world. They drank huge quantities of beer, they brawled, and they wore horned helmets despite all historical evidence to the contrary. "Used to be?" Curran asked. "They kicked him out for being drunk and violent." Curran blinked. "The Norse Heritage?" "Mhm." "Don't you have to be drunk and violent just to get in?" he asked. "Just how disorderly did he get?

Where is Barbie?" The female shifter snickered and choked it off. "Is there a stripper pole?

She surveyed the carnage behind him. "Did you have fun?" He showed her his teeth. "Yes.

The phone rang. I picked it up. "Kate Daniels" "It's me," Curran said. "I—" I hung up.

Who is there with you?" "Raphael" Kate's voice snapped. "I'll be in Atlanta in three hours. Where are you?" "I said it's nothing major." "Bullshit. You wouldn't work with Raphael unless the Apocalypse was imminent and that was the only way to prevent it.

All men are liars. All women are liars, too.

My ego doesn't need soothing. I don't want him soothing anything of mine, including you.