Read Day of the Vikings. A Thriller. (ARKANE) for Free Online Page B

put plastic cuffs on Morgan and Blake, tugging their wrists behind their backs.  
    “Be a good girl now,” the one behind Morgan whispered as he ratcheted the cuffs tight. He licked her ear, his tongue wet and probing. “Or I’ll come back and teach you a lesson.”  
    Morgan exhaled deeply, forcing down her natural reaction to turn and teach him a bloody lesson. He would be screaming soon enough, but Blake and the other hostages would pay a price for her anger. She calmed herself.  
    The men pushed the pair to the floor and put plastic cuffs around their ankles, too. The hostages around them cast surreptitious glances, not wanting to draw attention to themselves. Morgan had seen this reaction before: the urge to keep quiet and avoid the captor’s wrath. But she had also seen it in photos, on the faces of those on the train cars, the Jews who had never come home again.
    Blake’s cheek was swelling, and bruising had already appeared around the cut.  
    “Are you OK?” Morgan whispered, shuffling closer to him.  
    He nodded, but she could see he was still reeling from the blow and shocked by the sudden pain. “I’m doing better than him.”
    Morgan turned to see two of the Neo-Vikings drag the curator out to the front of the hostage group, and push him to kneel in front of the Valkyrie. He stumbled. Morgan could see he was bleeding too, clearly having taken a beating for his insolence in the exhibition hall.
    The Valkyrie raised her arms, holding the staff in a tight grip, pointing it to the sky above. It seemed like an extension of her arm and the way she held the heavy metal made it appear lighter … As if it belonged there. In the moment of silence, Morgan heard the faint thrum of a helicopter in the skies above.
    “You’re witnesses to the beginning of a new age,” the Valkyrie said, her voice echoing in the marble hall. “Those of you who are left will report to your media and they will know that Ragnarok is upon us, that I will usher in the final battle by calling up the souls of the dead to vanquish this land like our ancestors did. Too long have we been pathetic in the eyes of the world. Too long have we concerned ourselves with unimportant things. But when the moment of death comes, that is when we realize the triviality of our existence. You will know this soon enough, for a storm is coming.”
    The helicopter was louder now. Morgan thought perhaps it was the military finally come to free them, or a press helicopter capturing what must be a crazy scene outside.  
    The Valkyrie began to chant, using the iron staff to spin her words into the air around them. The wind began to blow, lightly at first, as if the doors had been opened to the world outside. It whirled about her as she chanted, the men joining for parts of the incantation, a response to her lead.  
    “ Nú er blóðugr örn breiðum hjörvi ,” she called, her eyes filled with a dread darkness. “Now comes the Blood Eagle with the broadsword.”  
    The curator’s head came up, his eyes wild as he clearly understood what she said. He struggled against those who held him.
    “No,” he screamed. “Not that, please.”
    He was dragged by two of the men in front of the Valkyrie. They forced him to his knees and held his mouth open while the seeress poured a dark liquid into his mouth, chanting ancient words of sacrifice. The man slumped into silence within a minute, his eyes glazed over, mouth drooling. The men turned him so his back was to the Valkyrie and ripped his clothes away to reveal his naked torso. The Valkyrie pulled an obsidian knife from her belt, tucking the staff in its place. The light reflected off the surface of the knife. In the glitter, Morgan saw the man’s death.  
    “Great Odin, accept this sacrifice as a herald of the New Age. The Blood Eagle will honor you,” the Valkyrie said, her words in English so all could hear. “Hold him tight now.”  
    Two of the men held the curator down as the Valkyrie plunged the