“Empathy.”

“Yes. Empathy. For those besides ourselves.”

Aditi pushed Kera’s hair off her face and studied her eyes closely. After nearly a minute, Aditi smiled and leaned in to kiss Kera’s forehead.

“You will do well among us, sweet Kera,” Aditi said. “You have finally found where you belong.”

“I have?”

“I know it takes time to realize that. But no matter your people, the gods you worshiped, the kings you knelt to, or the army you keep talking about even though you’re no longer a part of it”—Kera at first thought Aditi meant her, but those beautiful brown eyes cut across the table to briefly focus on the Russian Crow Kera had met earlier—“your loyalty will always be to your sisters. Because you’ll know, in your soul, that in return, their loyalty will always be to you.”

Aditi dumped big chunks of pork onto Kera’s plate and the First Crow dropped several big ribs.

“Eat,” Aditi urged. “If you do not, after so much fighting today, you will drop like stone. It will not be pretty.”

Starving as she was, Kera didn’t need much more prompting. She dug in and was surprised the food wasn’t half bad. Actually, it was quite good. And she was relieved. She hated the thought of dying and having to eat crappy food for the rest of eternity. She briefly wondered why she’d have to eat at all if she were dead, but her hunger kept her from analyzing anything too much. She was offered wine, ale, or mead, but thankfully, there was water and she stuck with that. She’d always liked staying stone-cold sober in a room full of drunken men.

As Kera’s appetite was finally satiated after several plates of meat and bread, she heard a squealed, “Oh my gosh! Is that her?” from the other end of the table. Then two women ran over to her and hugged her.

“Welcome!” one cheered.

“Hello, sweetie!” said the other.

“Hello.”

“You don’t know us. But we were the first L.A. Crows. Back in the Stone Age of 1934.”

“How are our L.A. girls doing?” the other asked.

“Going strong.”

“That is so good to hear,” said the first. “You may not know this but we’ve always been known for having the most beautiful Crows.”

“And the most talented.”

“And we bet you are, too!” squeaked the first. “So, whenever you’re ready to meet the rest of the L.A. gang, you let us know, sweetie. We usually hang out at the other end of the table.”

“You can also find a bunch of us at Freyja’s hall. She has really good ribs.”

Kera looked down the table, frowned, then squinted. “Is that . . . is that Bette Davis?”

The two women smirked. “We’ll nevertell.”

“Oh, my God,” Kera gasped. “Is that Dorothy Dandridge? My grandfather loved her.” Kera shook her head. “They were both Crows?”

“Told you. The best table . . . the most interesting people. You must join us.”

“She does not want your capitalist stars,” the Russian Crow cut in. “She has seen war. She belongs with fierce warriors, not pretty people created to lull the masses into pathetic stupidity.”

“Oh my God!” Kera squealed. “Is that Katharine Hepburn?”

When Vig realized one of his great-great-great-great uncles was about to again tell the story of meeting Ivar the Boneless, he sneaked away in search of Kera. He walked to the table filled with Crows, but he couldn’t see Kera among them. One of the Crows, though, smiled and motioned toward a small doorway off to the side. Vig nodded his thanks and made his way outside. He found Kera playing with some of the dogs. She had a two-hundred-pound beast, blood still on its muzzle, on its back so that she could rub the dog’s stomach like he was a defenseless puppy.

“Having fun?” Vig asked, keeping his voice calm so that he didn’t startle her or those dogs. They hadn’t been chosen lightly by Odin. They were powerful battle dogs, bred specifically to fight and kill during wartime.

“Yeah,” Kera replied easily. “I’m having a blast!” On her knees, she placed both hands against the dog’s chest and began scratching him from under his chin down to his belly. “I got to talk to . . .” she stopped, glanced back at the hall, “a certain actress for a good thirty minutes.”

“Do you mean Kat—”

“Sssssssh. She doesn’t like to make a big deal of it,” Kera whispered.

“Except here,” Vig whispered back, “it isn’t a big deal.”

“It is to me. It’s huge!” She laughed and patted the dog on his chest before standing up. “Thank you, Vig. This was amazing. I met the First Crow. I met Aditi.”

“I like her.”

“And there’s a whole goddamn group of Nachthexen!”

Vig chuckled. “Who?”

“Night Witches! Nachthexen were what the Germans called them during World War II. They were Red pilots and deadly. They still seem to be fans of Stalin, which is definitely off-putting, but other than that . . .”

“Do you want to go back in? You haven’t even met Eleanor Roosevelt yet. Although I didn’t actually see her, so she may be at Freya’s hall tonight. Better ribs.”

“Eleanor Roo . . . ? She was a Crow, too?”

“Yeah. Skuld likes them smart and she is definitely smart. Big on reason and logic. So you two have a lot in common.”