Kera laughed, completely charmed by this woman.

“Awww. Now look at that pretty smile.” She petted Kera’s cheek with the tips of her fingers. “I bet that big Raven of yours just brought you here because anyone you kill here is brought back the next day, so there’s no guilt for you.

“So this is the perfect place for you to do whatever you need to do. To get comfortable being you. The real you. The Crow you. This battle will rage for hours. Then—if you survive the day—you’ll enjoy the massive feast they have in Valhalla. Some of it is that weird Swedish shit, but the roast pig is to die for.”

“Here,” the Scottish Crow barked as she snatched the blades from Kera’s hands. “This is for easy human prey. Today you’re killing Vikings. Mostly. Take this.” She shoved the long-handled ax toward Kera’s chest while one of the other Crows returned the blades Vig had made Kera to the sheath around her ankle. “Do your worst. Enjoy the day.”

The handle was sticky with blood, but Kera wasn’t repulsed by it, even though she thought she should be.

The First Crow grabbed hold of Kera by the bicep and pulled her away from the others.

“There,” she said, pointing her talon. “Your first prey.”

Kera took in a sharp breath. “That’s the one who—”

“The one who took me from my people. Every day I kill him. Every day I make him pay for what he did to me. But today . . . it’s your day to make him feel pain.” She pressed her hand against Kera’s upper chest. “Feel the rage in here. Let this rage be your guide. For a Crow . . . the rage will never fail you.”

With that send-off, Kera walked toward the Viking who had once taken the First Crow from her home.

“What do you lot think?” Aggie asked her sisters as they watched the girl walk toward one of the nastiest Vikings in Valhalla.

“She will die painful death,” Raisa surmised. “But it will teach her valuable lesson.”

Aggie snorted at the Russian. “What lesson?”

“That not everyone should be Crow. Only the strong. Only the powerful.”

“You misjudge her rage,” the First Crow said. She still had no name. She refused to take one. “She has great power.”

“How can I misjudge what she does not have?” Raisa asked. “And what power? She is weak like wounded kitten. She would have never—”

“—survived in my Red,” the rest of the Crows finished for her in that singsong way Raisa hated.

She glared at them all before refocusing on the young Crow. Her prey had his back to her, and she could have killed him from behind. But, instead, she tapped him on the shoulder.

“What does she do?” Raisa asked, her voice confused and disgusted all at the same time.

Aggie shook her head. “She’s giving him a warning.”

“What the hell for?” Minnie asked.

Letting out asigh, Aggie replied, “She is honorable.”

The rest of the Crows groaned.

“Honor?” Raisa snapped. “We are Crows. We have no honor. We kill. That is what we do.”

“I guess this lass is different.”

“She will die every day until Ragnarok comes.”

“She has time to learn,” Aggie said, just as the poor girl was backhanded, her body stumbling several feet before falling, her head landing on someone’s discarded war hammer. “Or not.”

“That Raven was cruel to bring her here,” Dao-Ming said, her dark brown eyes downcast, unable to watch the slaughter of a fellow Crow.

“Don’t worry,” Aggie reasoned. “Her death still brings her to us and we can still teach her. Before Ragnarok comes.”

The Viking reached down and grabbed the poor girl by her throat, lifting her out of the mud she’d landed in. Blood seeped from a wound on the side of her head where she’d landed on the hammer.

As she was pulled to her feet, the girl lifted the hammer with her, her hand holding on to it tightly. Once she stood again, she used her free hand to grab his arm and twist it until he released her throat. Then she swung the hammer underhand, catching the Viking in the gut—and sending him flying up and out of the battlefield.

The Crows watched as the Viking disappeared over a nearby ridge, then slowly looked back at the girl.

Panting, she lifted her arm and brought back her elbow into the face of the warrior sneaking up behind her. She broke his nose and, it seemed, part of his face. She lifted the hammer and turned, swinging it so that it rammed into the warrior’s head, crushing his skull with one blow.

That’s when things turned . . . brutal.

The hidden rage that the First Crow had spoken of seemed to burst from the girl, and she tore through a group of Vikings, caving in their chests with one blow. And then, when they were on the ground, trying to breathe, she’d bring the hammer down on their heads, crushing their skulls. She did it again and again until better warriors came along and got the hammer from her. That’s when she pulled the slender blades from the sheath tied to her ankle. She quickly moved through the men, cutting and slicing major arteries. It was like watching a fancy dance, the way the girl moved, going from one warrior to another . . . and killing them.

Raisa nodded. “Da. She would do well in my Red,” she finally admitted. “She just need shove.”

“Are we going to let her have all the fun?” Aggie asked, looking over the group. These weren’t all the Crows. There were other groups of sisters who fought in nearby battlefields all over Asgard. As well as some who did not feel like fighting and watched the different battles from the safety of the trees. But this group . . . this group had been drawn here by the new Crow. They just hadn’t realized it at first. “Come on then! Let’s get stuck in there!”