Valhalla Virus by Nick Harrow (best management books of all time TXT) 📕

“Call it in,” the leader said.

With that, one of the jötunn raised a hand over his head, flashed a complex series of finger signals to the guards patrolling the roofs. Long seconds passed as the aerial goons conferred with someone inside the compound. Finally, they got the go sign.

“All right,” the guards’ leader said. “We’ll take you inside. Don’t cause any trouble and you’ll be fine. The big guy over there will take you inside.”

Gunnar and Mimi did as they were told, following one of the jötnar through a gate while two more trailed behind them. Another guard at the villa’s entrance stepped aside as a buzzer sounded from the building’s interior. He pulled the door open, then waved the group inside.

“Don’t cause any trouble in there,” the creature snarled as Gunnar passed him. “You’ll regret it.”

“This is purely a social call, sunshine,” Gunnar responded, his smile wide and bright. “Nobody messes with me, nobody gets their skull broken. We’re all friends here.”

Despite his cheery appearance, though, Gunnar’s nerves were pulled as tight as a guitar’s E string. This meeting was the wrong end of a years-long feud with a gang boss. Even with Mimi along as insurance, the slightest wrong move on Gunnar’s part would end in a whole lot of blood. Stay cool, he reminded himself. Just stay cool.

But that was far easier said than done. Something about the jötnar rankled Gunnar. Their smell clung to him, a primal odor that dredged up the memories of what he’d seen in the vision with the old man. His anger churned in his gut, urging him to do something stupid. The only way to hold it together was for him to focus his attention on anything but the jötnar.

He admired the architecture, the crystal-blue water that jetted from the fountains, even the grass beside the walkway that had been so neatly trimmed it looked fake. He concentrated on Mimi, and her presence helped to stabilize him. Gunnar couldn’t save her if he got himself popped in a melee with the monsters.

The common area that tied all the villas together held ten jötnar guards, a pair stationed next to each of the hallways leading off to the individual villas and the casino. One guard raised her chin toward Gunnar and directed him down the hallway between her and her partner.

Gunnar’s shoulders tensed as he and Mimi passed between the creatures. The blue freaks could easily drill a bullet through the humans’ necks as they passed, and there wouldn’t be a damned thing he could do about it.

“This is fun,” Mimi whispered to him. “A real grade-A idea we had.”

“Please come this way, sir.” A still-human butler had appeared at the end of the hallway as if by magic. “I apologize for the rather spartan nature of our current situation, but I can only offer you a whiskey or a sparkling water as refreshments. There might be some bottles of beer left, but our guests have been very...exuberant in their celebrations since last night.”

“Sure, we’ll each take a whiskey,” Gunnar said, and the butler handed one to him and to Mimi before the last syllable had left the bodyguard’s mouth. Gunnar wasn’t sure where the drinks had come from, but he wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

“That’s Pappy Van Winkle, aged twenty-five years,” the butler said. “Try not to drink it all in one go.”

Gunnar considered downing the entire thing in a single swallow to spite the prissy little guy. That, however, would’ve been a waste of a whiskey he’d likely never get the chance to have again. Plus, humans had to stick together against the goddamned freaks. He clinked his drink against Mimi’s.

The bodyguard took a sip from the glass, let it swirl around his tongue, then swallowed the smoky, spicy elixir. The flavor was so complex and intriguing, it held Gunnar’s attention even as he followed the butler through the villa’s main salon and outside to the pool area. Towering palms and a tall, thick hedge concealed the security wall that bordered the villas, and dwarf lemon trees filled the air with the pleasant bite of citrus. For a moment, Gunnar let his worries go and enjoyed another swig of whiskey.

And then a monster messed it all up.

“Ah, familiar faces.” A towering jötunn with blazing red eyes, vicious black tusks jutting from bone-white lips, and skin the color of fresh ashes emerged from the pool. A pair of horns curled forward from the creature’s temples and back around his ears. A third spiral prong thrust straight from the center of his forehead. The creature wore a golden chain as thick as Gunnar’s thumb around its throat, and a black stone dangled from it. “What? You don’t recognize me? Come on, buddy. It’s Cal.”

Gunnar was less surprised by his longtime enemy’s dramatically changed appearance than his attitude. He’d come ready for a fight, but nothing could have prepared him for being greeted like the prodigal son returned. Cal’s gruesome smile didn’t waver as Gunnar wrestled with his surprise. The four jötnar stationed around the pool ignored the bodyguard and Mimi. The monsters all seemed at ease, as if their guests were no threat to them at all.

“Sorry,” Gunnar said. “I didn’t expect you to have grown so much since the last time we met.”

“I wasn’t so sure I liked the change, but it’s growing on me,” Corso said. “I’m finally taller than you. Looking good, Mimi. Glad to see you got through the shit last night in one piece. Never figured you for one of those trendy bindi bitches, though.”

“You’re not the only one who can change,” Mimi said, a fake smile plastered across her features. “Looks like you got some new faces on the payroll.”

“The shit really hit the fan,” Corso said with a frown. “Fortunately, after my, ah, costume change, it was pretty easy to pick up new recruits this morning. Lost a lot of good men,