“Belong to the Crows? Yes.”

“I didn’t think anyone in Los Angeles had this kind of property. You even have a forest back here.”

“We do. But we bought this property back in 1932 when the first Crows came out here. I think they paid, maybe, twenty-five grand for the entire thing.”

The new girl’s mouth dropped open in shock. “You are kidding?”

No matter how stoic or stalwart a person might be, the one way to get a reaction out of a Southern Californian was to shock them with talk about Los Angeles real estate.

“But I brought you baklava!”

Erin and the woman looked at each other then walked over to the pool area near the new girl’s window. That’s where they found Chloe and Josef Alexandersen. And yeah, he did have a box of baklava.

The new girl shook her head and sighed, returning her gaze to the yard. “Christ, my dog could be anywhere.”

Erin gestured. “Or he—”

“She.”

“She could be right over there.”

The new girl glanced to her right, her lip curling in disgust. “Seriously?” she demanded of the dog once she’d stomped over poolside and stared down at it, stretched out on its back on the deck recliner beneath a standing umbrella. On either side of the dog were two Crows, both on their phones, chatting away with whomever, while they rubbed the dog’s exposed belly.

“Comfortable?” the new girl asked her dog. And, if Erin didn’t know better, she’d swear the dog grinned at her.

One Crow ended her phone call and smiled. “Is she your dog?”

“Yes.”

“My God, she is so sweet. I just love her! Chloe never let us have a dog here. Insurance, she says. Not sure I believe her. I think she just doesn’t like dogs.”

The other Crow ended her call and tossed the phone onto a small table. “Chloe doesn’t like much of anything.”

“We’re going running later, can we bring your dog along?”

The new girl studied the other women a moment before asking, “And what’s your experience walking dogs?”

Erin immediately looked at her sister-Crows.

“Our . . . experience?” one asked. “Um . . . I had a dog when I was a kid? I walked him. It was one of my chores.”

“Is your dog vicious?” the other asked. “She doesn’t seem vicious.”

“She has a high prey drive. Cats, raccoons, all small animals just look like something to hunt down and kill to her. But that’s not the point.”

“I didn’t think so,” Erin said low, rubbing her nose.

“Having a dog,” the new girl explained, placing her arms behind her back and pacing in front of the Crows, “is a major responsibility.”

“Of course—”

“But Brodie isn’t just a dog. She’s a pit bull. So when you’re out walking her, you’re not just representing dogs . . . you’re representing all pit bulls and pit bull owners, and because of that, one has to be more responsible with a pit bull or rottweiler or Doberman or any other powerful dog.”

“Because we represent all pit bulls?”

“Yes.”

“Brodie?” one sister asked.

“Brodie Hawaii. Because one day we’re both going to live in Hawaii.”

There was laughter. “Yeah, good luck with that. Everybody wants to be in the Hawaii Crows . . . because they’re in fuckin’ Hawaii. You gotta get in line for that deal.”

“Hey, Erin,” one sister asked, “why are the Ravens here?”

“I sense another restraining order on the horizon,” sighed another.

“Who are the Ravens?” the new girl asked. “Were they the ones that attacked me last night?”

“No. Those were the Giant Killers.”

She cringed at the name. “Giant Killers? Really?”

“That’s Thor’s Clan and if there’s one thing about that asshole . . . it’s that he kills a lot of giants.”

“It’s all over the Eddas,” a sister noted between sips of her orange juice.

“The Eddas?”

“Basically the main book on Viking mythology . . . and one of the most confusing. Anyway, in the Eddas, it seemed that one of the main things Thor did was kill giants. Male giants. Female giants. Children. If they were giants, Thor was killing them.”

“You’re talking about Thor with the hammer?” The new girl frowned. “Huh. You’d think those hammers would have been heavier then.”

“It took four of us,” Erin told her, “to drag those fucking hammers into the house.”

“So you’re all kind of weak?”

Erin stared directly at her. “No. We’re not.”

“Oh.” She blinked. “I don’t think I understand.”

“Most of us get a special skill all our own when we’re brought back by Skuld,” Erin explained. “Apparently yours is strength. Massive strength.”

The new girl’s brown eyes clouded and she glanced off.

“Let me guess,” Erin suggested, “you were fighting off whoever eventually killed you and while it was happening you kept thinking, ‘If only I was stronger. If only I had the power to break his neck.’ ” The way the new girl stared at her, Erin knew she was right. “And, if you’re really angry when you have that thought, really, seriously, tear-the-world-apart angry, and you go to Skuld like that . . . it changes everything.”