❴ NO FURTHER MESSAGES ❵ came through the communication device, its bright screen glaring up at hime blankly with the time. She never listened. He had not been telling her to keep away as a male who had won her affections, but as a Nordic god. But black letters on a small screen could hardly convey the imperative nature and tone of voice. Once he rolled his fingers into the black stained gauze wrapped around his palm, the ends catching upon hooked claws. Long strides carried him through the desolate, abandoned bank back towards the surface. A steel, bloodstained sword gripped in another fist of claws. Dark, scaled protrustions had ripped through the jacket he’d stolen [it was better than his blood stained one before], eyes darkening into the the sepulchers of crimson. He would have to meet her before someone else did. As nice a vehicle has hers would attract attention in these ruins of Chicago.
The tires of Em’s custom-made, black BMW Alpina B7 screeched in tandem with the hisses of her snakes as she rounded the corner. One of her snakes was loose from the wig, coiled tightly around her phone. Find My iPhone pulsed on the screen. She thanked Athena for putting the idea of adding Alduin’s phone to the app into her head, then cursed the goddess for not helping her brute of a boyfriend. Could gods from other pantheons even help each other out? If not that, then perhaps knock some sense into him? Do your random, irrelevant thing as always, Grey Eyes, she muttered to herself, then floored the gas pedal. It was not long before she met up with him, right at the outskirts of the slums. Before she even stopped, she was rolling down her window. “Get in.” His current state would be terrifying to a human, and it just took one call from police to fuck up their lives. Em’s eyes zeroed in on the bloodied sword. “Don’t get blood on my leather."
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