Gunmetal Magic: A Novel in the World of Kate Daniels

left shoulder.
Hello, Magnus. Where is your master?
    The stallion stared in my direction and bared his teeth.
Now horses were giving me crap.
    “Mind your manners,” I murmured.
    “Best behavior,” Ascanio assured me.
    Mentioning that I was talking to a horse who couldn’t hear me would’ve totally cramped my boss style, so I nodded and walked up to the mead hall.
    A large, rawboned woman barred my path. A large gun hung on her right hip and a small axe hung on her left.
    “Hrefna,” I acknowledged her. We had run into each other in the Guild before. She was good with both knife and sword and rarely lost her temper.
    “Kate.” Her voice was quiet. “The lion has to stay outside.”
    “He won’t like it.”
    The lion shook his mane.
    “I can’t let him inside,” Hrefna said. “You bring him in, someone’s going to make trouble just to see if they can put his head on their wall. I’ve got to do my job. It’s your call.”
    I looked at Curran. The lion melted. Skin stretched, bones twisted, and human Curran straightened. He was completely nude. Gloriously nude.
    Hrefna raised her eyebrows.
    Curran pulled jeans and a shirt from my saddlebag.
    “Well,” Hrefna said. “I always wondered why you went all shapeshifter. Explains things.”
    The vampire next to me rolled his blood-red eyes.
    We walked inside the mead hall. The vampire, shapeshifters, the dog, and the lion man followed me.
    A huge room greeted me. Twin rows of evenly spaced out tables ran parallel along the length of the chamber. Originally the Vikings had tried to have the tables joined in two lines, but they couldn’t sweep under them, so they went to Plan B, which made their mead hall resemble a barbarian cafeteria. People mulled around the tables. Some ate, some talked, some oiled their weapons. The tables ran into a raised platform at the opposite end of the hall. On the platform a man sat in a large chair carved from driftwood and lined with furs. His shoulders stretched his blue woolen tunic. His face, framed by a glossy black mane of hair, was dark and carved with sharp precision. A narrow gold band rested on his head.
    He glanced at us. Dark eyes took our measure. He noted Curran, frowned, and looked away pretending he hadn’t seen us. Curran preferred to stay anonymous. Not many people besides the city heavyweights knew what he looked like. Ragnvald was trying to decide if the polite thing to do was to acknowledge Curran or pretend he wasn’t there.
    Before we left on this fun trip, we had discussed our strategy, and I volunteered to take point. If Curran came in his official capacity as the Beast Lord, there would be formal greetings and ceremony and the whole thing would take much longer than needed. Besides, I knew the neo-Vikings better than he did, so it made sense for me to take the lead. Curran decided to go as what he referred to as a “redshirt.” Apparently it was the term for some sort of disposable attendant from some old TV show.
    “Is that the jarl?” Ascanio whispered behind me.
    “Yes.”
    “But he’s Native American.”
    “Choctaw,” I told him. “The Vikings don’t care how you look. They care how well you swing your axe.”
    I headed down between the tables with my little entourage at my back. This would have been so much easier if I had come by myself.
    About ten feet from the platform Ragnvald decided he couldn’t ignore us any longer. “Kate!
Vestu heill!
Long time no see.”
    Not long enough. “Hello, Ragnvald. These are my associates.” There. I didn’t mention Curran by name. That should clue him in.
    Ragnvald pushed himself off the chair. Upright, he was over six feet tall. He took a step off the platform and nodded to me. “I was just thinking of you.”
    “It’s probably because you saw me walk through the door and then pretended I wasn’t here for the last couple of minutes.”
    Ragnvald’s face split into a grin. “I just couldn’t believe my eyes. The alpha of the shapeshifters popping in unannounced. I’m shocked.”
    Oh, you sonovabitch. He was still trying to turn this into some sort of spectacle. “I’m not here in that capacity.”
    Ragnvald tapped his band. “This never comes off. Best to remember it now. But come on, we’ll talk business.” He raised his voice, shaking the nearby cups. “Someone bring drinks to our guests.”
    Why did everyone have to be so damn loud all the time?
    Ragnvald nodded to a side table. “Please.”
    He took a seat and I sat