It denotes you as one of our own, then all you need is the clan handshake and you'll be officially an eagle. Then we can teach you to fly.”
“ Fly?” I squeak.
“ What did you think being an eagle meant? This isn't a cheerleading squad, we're the real deal. We work for Odin and his allies in Asgard, we are 'magic' incarnate. We descend from gods, Deliah,” he says, resting his elbows on his propped up knee.
“ So when Alweada said Adam was flying, he really meant Adam was flying?” I ask.
“ Damn straight. Stick around darling and you'll soon find we're the source for every monster myth known to mankind. We're the original mothmen, our allies over in Vlaenderen are the original warlocks and supposed vampyres of legend, and just over the mountain and down the aspect we have our cousins, the draugr, who've spawned zombie stories as they are the original 'undead' race. And truth be told, fiction got it so messed up and twisted they've taken pure beauty and mutilated it into macabre blasphemy.”
I wish he was kidding, but he's got his 'I'm dead serious' face on.
He waves away the thought with a flick of his hand, “Enough chitchat or Adam's going to come looking for you again.”
Leaning forward he dips his fingers in the ash, coming to me to wipe it on my forehead, when it occurs to me to ask, “I thought oak trees were the holy trees. Not yew trees.”
“Oak trees are holy to Thor. Yew trees are holy to Odin, Thor's father. Ash trees were substituted for yew after the destruction of Yggdrasil. Plus we didn't want the fuckers burning any more of them down. It's called misdirection,” he says, his voice becoming warm and velvet, thick and sexy.
Or maybe that's just the ash on my forehead talking?
“Deliah, tell me what you hear, what you see...”
Every syllable licks my nipples and flicks my clit, riding my blood and nerve endings with stimulation so seductive my legs get that warm weak feeling. I could listen to him talk all night.
Crimson words flicker in the mist in front of me, and this time I can read them even though I know it's a language I've never been exposed to.
It's like a user's manual for a warrior. No Norse descendant's sword or weapon can harm you if you are not an enemy, even if it strikes you. Odin ensures we remain unharmed even when armed.
He controls our minds in battle, guiding our strikes, we are a channel for his power and we manifest his will for him. A hand presses my right shoulder and a lady whispers in my ear words of power, bravery, courage.
Equal in everything, life and death, love and hate. No matter how big the man we have the power to smite, to adjust the balance, to destroy all who harm, the blackhearts, the soulless, the ones chosen by the female squadron who... look like me! Oh my god they look like me! More than half of them have my dark hair and eyes, their shoulders wide, their arms muscular and powerful, but they have the faces of angels, brandishing swords of light.
The vision fades away and I'm staring straight into Ewan's sunlight eyes.
“Liah? Baby? You okay?”
Closing my eyes against the hallucinogenic voice, I reach out, pulling the man's head closer, whispering across his mouth, “I'm high.”
“And how do you know you're high?” murmurs back, liquid sex thrumming up and down my legs until my hairs stand on end.
“ Because your voice is making me horny.”
“ Good thing you have bandy legs or I'd dislocate your hips if I scratched that itch for you,” whispers back, giving me a shiver as if he just rubbed his stubble down my nape to plant a hot wet kiss between my shoulder blades.
“ This is a trip right? All just my imagination...” I smile, reopening my eyes to see his luminescent, his left palm glowing yellow again.
“ No, you are really having this conversation with me. Maybe I shouldn't let you go drinking with the boys.”
“ How do you do that? How do you make your voice reach inside me like that?” I shudder as the live
“ Fly?” I squeak.
“ What did you think being an eagle meant? This isn't a cheerleading squad, we're the real deal. We work for Odin and his allies in Asgard, we are 'magic' incarnate. We descend from gods, Deliah,” he says, resting his elbows on his propped up knee.
“ So when Alweada said Adam was flying, he really meant Adam was flying?” I ask.
“ Damn straight. Stick around darling and you'll soon find we're the source for every monster myth known to mankind. We're the original mothmen, our allies over in Vlaenderen are the original warlocks and supposed vampyres of legend, and just over the mountain and down the aspect we have our cousins, the draugr, who've spawned zombie stories as they are the original 'undead' race. And truth be told, fiction got it so messed up and twisted they've taken pure beauty and mutilated it into macabre blasphemy.”
I wish he was kidding, but he's got his 'I'm dead serious' face on.
He waves away the thought with a flick of his hand, “Enough chitchat or Adam's going to come looking for you again.”
Leaning forward he dips his fingers in the ash, coming to me to wipe it on my forehead, when it occurs to me to ask, “I thought oak trees were the holy trees. Not yew trees.”
“Oak trees are holy to Thor. Yew trees are holy to Odin, Thor's father. Ash trees were substituted for yew after the destruction of Yggdrasil. Plus we didn't want the fuckers burning any more of them down. It's called misdirection,” he says, his voice becoming warm and velvet, thick and sexy.
Or maybe that's just the ash on my forehead talking?
“Deliah, tell me what you hear, what you see...”
Every syllable licks my nipples and flicks my clit, riding my blood and nerve endings with stimulation so seductive my legs get that warm weak feeling. I could listen to him talk all night.
Crimson words flicker in the mist in front of me, and this time I can read them even though I know it's a language I've never been exposed to.
It's like a user's manual for a warrior. No Norse descendant's sword or weapon can harm you if you are not an enemy, even if it strikes you. Odin ensures we remain unharmed even when armed.
He controls our minds in battle, guiding our strikes, we are a channel for his power and we manifest his will for him. A hand presses my right shoulder and a lady whispers in my ear words of power, bravery, courage.
Equal in everything, life and death, love and hate. No matter how big the man we have the power to smite, to adjust the balance, to destroy all who harm, the blackhearts, the soulless, the ones chosen by the female squadron who... look like me! Oh my god they look like me! More than half of them have my dark hair and eyes, their shoulders wide, their arms muscular and powerful, but they have the faces of angels, brandishing swords of light.
The vision fades away and I'm staring straight into Ewan's sunlight eyes.
“Liah? Baby? You okay?”
Closing my eyes against the hallucinogenic voice, I reach out, pulling the man's head closer, whispering across his mouth, “I'm high.”
“And how do you know you're high?” murmurs back, liquid sex thrumming up and down my legs until my hairs stand on end.
“ Because your voice is making me horny.”
“ Good thing you have bandy legs or I'd dislocate your hips if I scratched that itch for you,” whispers back, giving me a shiver as if he just rubbed his stubble down my nape to plant a hot wet kiss between my shoulder blades.
“ This is a trip right? All just my imagination...” I smile, reopening my eyes to see his luminescent, his left palm glowing yellow again.
“ No, you are really having this conversation with me. Maybe I shouldn't let you go drinking with the boys.”
“ How do you do that? How do you make your voice reach inside me like that?” I shudder as the live
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