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

lead them into battle against their true foe. They’d capture Odin’s pawn along with the bitches who served him.

And she’d keep that big fucker chained in her quarters. She’d use him until her belly grew heavy with their children. The völva would serve the warriors in her band, and their hellish offspring would become the shock troops that would lead Hilda to dominion over her new territory.

That thought brought a smile to her face. Her eyes were suddenly half lidded, heavy with dark desire. She could almost imagine the pawn’s cock inside her. Hilda couldn’t wait to milk every drop of seed from him.

And then she’d tear his heart out and eat it raw.

That dream wasn’t as farfetched as some of her allies thought. There was no one who could stand against Hilda.

One of the war band jumped out of the house’s front window with a body in tow. He slung it onto the grass at Hilda’s feet. More of her warriors followed, leaving their grisly trophies for their queen’s inspection. Finally, Hilda’s lieutenant appeared in the doorway. He held a struggling jötunn by the back of the neck and steered it across the front lawn.

“We weren’t doing anything,” the jötunn snarled. “Bogie already chased us out of Fremont. We were looking for a place to shack up until we could—”

Hilda had heard that name too many times now. She backhanded the prisoner, a casual slap that split his lips and knocked two of his teeth out onto the grass. The thrill of violence sent a shiver down her spine. She admired the blood that smeared across her golden ring. “Who is this Bogie, and where can I find him?”

Hilda recognized a threat when she heard it. From the sound of it, this Bogie had a force to rival her war band. She could not allow defiance. She’d hunt him to his lair, then gut him. If he had any decent warriors in his band, she’d even let some of them join her.

“I’m right here,” a gruff voice called from behind Hilda.

She shoved the prisoner away and whirled to face this new threat.

If the fucker in front of her was Bogie, he was certainly big enough to be a problem. The piece of shit stood ten feet tall, a pair of enormous horns curling from his forehead like a ram. He wore only a leather loincloth and a holster hung from a wide belt around his waist. That held a ludicrous golden pistol that looked more like something out of a cartoon than a weapon for the battlefield.

Bogie smiled at Hilda, a mouth full of sharp, white teeth framed by a pair of tusks that emerged from his lower jaw. “Like what you see?”

“What are you doing in my territory?” she asked, her claws bursting from the tips of her fingers.

Bogie spread his hands wide and showed Hilda his palms. “I came alone. Just wanted to give you a message.”

The rest of the war band chuckled at that as they gathered around Hilda to confront this newcomer. As big as Bogie was, he was nowhere near the size of her lieutenant, and Hilda had four more warriors the same size or bigger under her control. If she couldn’t kill this arrogant prick by herself, her boys would pitch in to finish the job. But the war band’s leader was curious. She wanted to know what kind of jötunn Bogie was and whether he was a real threat to her. She raised one hand to quiet her crew, then nodded toward the intruder. “Let’s hear it.”

“I’m recruiting for Arthur Drake,” Bogie said. “Join the team and I’ll make sure you keep your command. All we ask is for your support in our mission and to follow orders when necessary.”

It was Hilda’s turn to laugh. She shook her head, the short horns that emerged from her temples slashing at the air. “You’ve got thirty seconds to get out of here. After that, we’ll pull you to pieces and roast your balls over our fire.”

Bogie’s grin never faltered. He kept his hands raised to show he was no threat and backed away from Hilda. “Okay,” he said. “I’m going. Just remember that he gave you a chance.”

HILDA LOUNGED ON TOP of the pile of fur coats that served as her throne and watched her band celebrate their victory. They’d butchered the rebellious jötnar at the house and now roasted the choicest cuts over a roaring fire at the heart of the Neon Boneyard. Hilda admired her war band’s exuberance and the changes that had taken place during their raid this afternoon. The signs that surrounded her had once been landmarks of the old world. Now, bones and timbers carved into sinuous shapes had taken the place of the ancient glass and metal. The runes hacked into their surfaces glowed with a rainbow of unnatural colors that rivaled the fire’s light. With every kill, her fortress became stronger, more a part of her.

Hilda felt powerful here, unstoppable and invulnerable.

But she couldn’t shake the strange feeling that Bogie had awakened inside her. She wasn’t afraid of him, but his confidence in the face of overwhelming force had shaken her. What did that motherfucker know that made him so smug?

“Fuck it,” she snapped. What she wanted was to smoke a few bales of the weed her team had looted. Unfortunately, Hilda had learned that she could smoke as much as she wanted and never get more than the barest tingle of a buzz. The ring healed her too quickly for the smoke to get her high. To feel much of anything, Hilda had to push herself very, very hard.

The claw on her right index finger slid free of its sheath, the ivory tip sparkling in the supernatural light that surrounded her throne. She pressed the point against the skin on the inside of her thigh, just above her knee. The pain was instant and exhilarating. She dragged her natural weapon up under her skirt