Bjorn inhaled in very much the same way as Remy had. “That calibration alone is interesting information.”
Remy’s nose twitched as if he smelled something unbecoming floating in on the breeze. “This is dark wolf magic,” he said. “Gerard and Axlam were sure of it at the park, and I agree.”
Bjorn’s nose also twitched. “We have one. We can use it to find others. We’ll get this under control by the time the pack runs.”
Remy did not look as certain as Bjorn. This running needed extra elves anyway—elves who would be as distracted by Samhain magic and a blizzard as the wolves.
And I had a gut feeling what that meant. “Bjorn,” I said. “Anything that negatively affects the pack has the possibility of negatively affecting the entire town.”
Bjorn rubbed at a glamoured ear. “This isn’t a Dracula situation,” he said.
Maybe. I hoped Bjorn was right. “Ed will do everything he can to protect the pack, the elves, and the town,” I said. “But there won’t be elves around to help. His family will be at risk.”
Bjorn looked up at the sky. “We do not allow mundanes in The Hall.” He spoke the words without any hint of emotion. I couldn’t tell if he found this annoying, or if he agreed with me.
“I’m mundane,” I said.
Bjorn laughed. “You are no more mundane than the wolves.” He slapped my shoulder.
“Ed is the town monster slayer,” Remy said. “He killed that vampire, Bjorn. You were there. You saw what he did. I think that counts.”
Bjorn shook his head. “This is not a simple matter.”
Remy must have smelled indecision on Bjorn because he pounced. “The three Alphas of the Alfheim Pack formally request—”
“Enough,” Bjorn snapped. A pillar of thunder magic rose off his shoulders and flickered much like Akeyla’s fire. He turned his back to Remy.
Some mundane, somewhere, had caused enough of a problem inside a Great Hall that the elves of Alfheim had placed a moratorium on regular humans entering the magic.
Remy pulled out his phone. “I’m going home.” He swiped at the screen. “I need to discuss this with Gerard and Axlam before we brief the pack.” He swiped through his messages. He stopped on one, and his eyebrow arched. “The boy continues with his obstinate behavior,” he said.
Which would make the feast fun for Maura.
Remy sighed. “Oh, he understands that what he said to Akeyla was inappropriate. He explained to his father what you explained to him, Frank. He knows.” Remy put his phone back into his pocket. “He just needs to understand that she has just as much of a right to be emotional about this as he does.” He nodded toward Bloodyhood’s cab.
Bjorn shook his head.
Remy walked backward toward his truck. “At this point, he’s more upset about being wrong than he is about what he was wrong about in the first place.” He pulled his car keys from his pocket. “It’s an alpha thing, and it does not take well to interference.”
Bjorn remained silent.
Remy saluted, and walked toward his vehicle.
Bjorn looked over his shoulder, then back toward Raven’s Gaze. “Those two ravens?” He pointed at the oak tree. “They don’t like Arne.” He faced me. “Our Odinsson elf.” More magic lifted off his shoulders. “They love Dagrun. They’re happier to see her than they are to see Lennart.”
I wasn’t surprised. “She said they were here to bear witness.”
“Ah, yes.” Bjorn gripped my shoulder. “Our King and Queen have their own distractions this Samhain.”
I shrugged. “Dagrun mentioned as much at the farm.”
Bjorn stared at the restaurant. “This is one of the few times in my long life that I truly wish for Magnus’s presence.”
“You can always call Benta,” I said.
A hearty laugh rumbled from Bjorn. “I did ask her to cat sit, didn’t I?”
Ah, the wonderful Mr. Mole Rat. “I do not understand how such long lived elves can be so…” I shook my head.
Bjorn laughed again. He leaned close. “What is the most universal trait among all the gods everywhere, my friend?” He swept his arm at the sky above.
“Besides power?” I asked.
“Besides power,” he responded.
The answer was obvious. Every pantheon was full to the brim with gods who did not act their age. “They’re all cautionary tales,” I said.
“Close enough.” He laughed again. He touched the side of his nose. “And we are nothing, we elves, if we are not aspects of our gods.”
That they were. “Sif at the bike shop was asking about you,” I said. If we were all subject to the whims of the gods, I’d continue to attempt those inroads I was reminded of at Sif’s store.
Bjorn blinked. “She was? When?”
Sometimes I swore the elves were oblivious to the obvious. “This afternoon.”
He rubbed at his sideburn. Then he snorted out a chuckle. “This is Arne and Dagrun’s fault.”
“What?” I seemed to be asking that a lot. Not how or why, but that incredulous what as if I understood nothing. I should probably admit that I didn’t.
Bjorn grinned. “Perhaps I should offer Sif a kitten? I do not have horses.”
I couldn’t stop the resulting snort. If I’d had water in my mouth, I would have spit it everywhere. “I think she’d like that.”
Bjorn’s grin turned to a wide smile. He grasped my shoulder, squeezed, then pointed at the path to the loft. “Lennart and I will figure out how to break these concealments by tomorrow evening. We will have plenty of time to check the route.”
Would we? Something told me that if it took us this long to find one camera, that even with broken enchantments, finding anything else was still going to be slow going.
Bjorn nodded, more for himself than for me. “I will call Ed. Let him know where the magic stands.” He sighed again. “And as an elder elf, I will take your words of advisement to Arne.” He rubbed his ear. “But do not hold your breath, Frank. You know our King and Queen.”
Yes I do, I thought, but I didn’t say it. Nor did I make the obvious point that Arne and Jaxson had a lot in common.
As Remy said, it was an alpha thing.
“Call me, too,” I said, and pulled out my own keys.
“I will,” Bjorn said. Then he nodded one final time, and walked away, toward the enchantments in need of breaking.
Maura was still up when I got home. She sat at the kitchen table with a warm cup of tea between her hands as she watched the lake through the doors. The warm, soothing scent of chamomile filled the room, and I wondered if she was on her second or third mug.
“Can’t sleep?” I asked as I set Sal on her bed.
My sister glanced at me, then back at the lake. “Any new information?” she responded.
I pulled out a chair and sat down. “Your mom and I found a magically concealed camera trap. Bjorn and Lennart are picking it apart right now.”
She set down her mug. “And you think the fake photographer has something to do with it?”
I shrugged. “No strong proof. But it was on property owned by a shell company that’s associated with the company from which he supposedly hired the equipment.”
Her body was calm, but her magic was not. “I would have gone out to the farm with you.”
“What about Akeyla?” I asked.
Maura inhaled sharply. “She’s going to be nine in two-and-a-half weeks. She can handle a few hours here by herself, especially after she’s gone to bed. When I was her age, I was running wild amongst the oaks and the river rocks, remember?”
I remembered. She’d been born while I was away at college, and my return to Alfheim had been full of Maura, the wild child princess. “I do. But still.”
Maura looked out over the lake again. “The worst thing we can do is stifle her. She needs to find her magic herself. We cannot find it for her. Not that Akeyla will be running the woods. Not until she can hold her glamour when startled.” She tapped her own unglamour
ed ear. “It only takes me a moment to set up an alarm spell in case she needs someone. Plus I got her a phone. I was going to hold it until her birthday but Sophia has one and Akeyla’s been begging.”
Honestly, I hadn’t even thought to ask. “Akeyla takes priority so I assumed you were pretty much always busy.”
She exhaled. “The mommy job.” She took another sip of her tea. “I don’t know what Mom’s thinking.”
Why hadn’t I made the connection earlier? Probably because I hadn’t been around for the last making of a royal elf.
Elven babies were special, and from what little I’d learned in my two hundred years in Alfheim, making one took physical and magical effort.
Which was why, I suspected, the elves varied so much in their power and longevity. It wasn’t just the mingling of DNA that made the elf, it was also how well the parental magic melded.
“Can I ask you a question?” One I’d thought too impolite to ask since her return.
She nodded knowingly. “Akeyla’s father didn’t turn abusive until it became clear his daughter was more elf than spirit.”
This was the first time I’d heard her refer to Akeyla’s father as abusive. “I’m sorry.”
Maura sighed. “You know, some among us can feel the future. Not so much see what is happening, but feel the flow of the river, so to speak. In dreams and in meditative states, mostly.” She set down her mug. “Not me.”
I knew that some elves showed precognitive gifts.
Maura pushed back her chair. “So, my dear brother, will you help this mommy return to adult land?”
I smiled. “Of course.”
She patted my hand. “Thank you.” She took one final sip of her tea. “We’ll get this interloper business sorted.”
I stood and stretched. “You seem less concerned than I would expect.”
She also stood, and made her way to the sink to rinse out her mug. “Samhain night makes the wolves vulnerable.” She set the mug in the dish drainer. “Even our pack.” She said it as if she didn’t believe the wolves really did need the elves when they ran.
“True,” I said.
She leaned against the sink. “Samhain thins veils and grays out lines that would otherwise be black and white.” She stood up and walked toward the bedrooms. “That’s why Dad offered Gerard and Remy help when they first arrived. Our job, on the run, is to refocus the blur, so to speak.” She stopped on the threshold to the hallway. “We’re good at it, Frank. We know how to read the wolves, and we also know when there are problems.” She turned away again. “The run isn’t what we should be worried about.” She waved. “Sleep well, brother.”
Was she correct? Were Alfheim’s elves and pack bulletproof on run nights?
It wasn’t that simple. It couldn’t be that simple.
Life in Alfheim never was.
Chapter 14
I spent the next day with Bjorn and Lennart looking for more camera traps, spells, and random magic out in the fields along the edge of the federal forest lands. We found nothing, even though I carried Sal, and came in at dusk.
Their last request: I was to come to the feast tonight. I argued, of course. It didn’t make any difference, and I ended up waiting in the lot for Maura and Akeyla, because I knew if I went in without them, there would be little-elf hell to pay.
Maura parked near the street, and I’d pulled my truck in under the trees on the far side of The Hall’s real lot. Dag’s ice-blue roadster was in its usual spot under the lot’s central light, with Arne’s brand-new eco-vehicle. The car was sort-of SUV-shaped, a shimmery, dark, blood-rich red not all that different from Bloodyhood’s finish.
We might be rid of the vampires, but our new vehicles sure suggested bloodsuckers and war.
From her pocket behind the passenger seat, Sal reminded me that one should always be ready for battles, bloody or otherwise.
I chuckled. “You are a font of wisdom, Salvation.”
She axe-sniffed and made sure that I understand how correct we both were.
I pulled her from her pocket. She shimmered in the blue halogen brightness of the lot’s central light, and her glow came from our proximity to The Hall.
Maura, her face also shimmering from her phone’s just-as-blue light, walked toward the truck with Akeyla in tow.
I opened my door, stepped out, and waited for my niece to take my hand.
She smiled big. “Ready, Uncle Frank?” Akeyla seemed determined to make my first return to elven space since my brother’s attack the best visit possible. “Mommy says Ms. Martenson made lefse.”
The elves loved their classic Norwegian foodstuffs, and Sue Martenson did make the best lefse in town.
She was also one of the few mundane spouses allowed inside elven space around The Great Hall, even if she wasn’t allowed into The Hall itself.
And again, I wondered about Ed. I wasn’t getting answers until I got inside, that was for sure.
Maura looked up from her phone. “Okay,” she said. “With Magnus out of town, it looks like Bjorn will be running with Remy.” She scrolled again. “Dad’s running with Gerard. Mom’s running with Axlam. Jax will run with them.”
Akeyla huffed.
Maura ignored her response. “So, honey,” she said to her daughter, “Because it’s Samhain and we have that photographer who’s been causing trouble, everyone’s going to be extra busy inside.”
Akeyla nodded.
“That means you stay with me, Uncle Frank, or one of your grandparents, okay?”
She nodded again.
Maura continued scrolling. “Lennart is running with Mark Ellis, since Mark’s still new-ish, and it’s Samhain.” She scrolled again. “I’m running with Doug Martenson on the outside of the pack because, Dad says, Doug will see stragglers and I’m powerful enough to bring them back in.” She nodded as if this was the first time her father had given her this responsibility.
“Congratulations?” I said.
Maura shrugged. She tucked her phone away. “Especially since Benta’s running with Sadie Hill.”
Sadie was the newest pack member. I wasn’t sure when she was turned, but I did know she was a handful. I didn’t know why exactly, other than she didn’t seem to have the iron will that got most people through the change.
“Can I learn a run spell?” Akeyla asked.
Maura looked impressed. “Watch carefully when I’m with Mr. Martenson. We’ll show you the spell that allows me to hear him when he’s in wolf form and outside The Great Hall. How does that sound? We can practice after Samhain.”
Akeyla grinned. “Okay, Mommy.”
Such a spell might help Akeyla with her Jax issue. But we had more pressing issues, such as getting the wolves through Samhain.
“Hmmm,” I said. “Did your dad forward that list to Ed?”
Maura shielded her eyes from the light’s glare and peered at the exterior “door” into elven space. I could make it out from here, even with the lights and the headlights. Either one of the elder elves boosted its resonance or I was seeing a Samhain effect.
Maura nodded toward the door. “Did you know the weather amplifies transitional magic?” she asked.
I took Akeyla’s hand. “No. Did you know that, pumpkin?”
Akeyla didn’t answer. She watched a car turn into the lot.
The Geroux family was about to park and make their way into the feast.
“I don’t want to talk to Jax,” Akeyla said. “I don’t like him anymore.” Her grip on my fingers heated up.
“Um, okay,” I said. “Let’s go, then.”
Maura frowned down at her daughter. “Honey, we need to—”
A resounding no rolled off Sal. She insisted that the boy wolf was to first apologize and show true remorse.
Small, aurora-filled flames danced along Akeyla’s shoulders. They swirled in a semi-controlled, yet organic way, and jumped to the tips of her now clearly-visible pointed ears.
“Can I carry Sal?” she whispered.
Ma
ura looked over her shoulder as Jax walked around their car and stopped next to his father. His young shoulders slumped, and he watched Akeyla with wide eyes, but he didn’t come over.
Maura swung her hand in a small arc, then tapped her thumb against her ring finger. A sheer, ethereal magic plume formed behind Akeyla. It wavered like a cloth in wind, then settled onto her shoulders like a cloak.
“If it’s okay with Sal and Uncle Frank,” Maura said.
I had no say in this. Who carried Sal was her decision. I just happened to be the guy she currently liked the most.
Sal tossed out the equivalent of only if you promise to be careful, young one. I am heavy.
Akeyla nodded.
Sal’s blade was wider than Akeyla’s shoulders, and her handle thicker than her arm, but my little niece took her weight just fine.
Maura whipped out a second cloak spell, this one around the cutting edge of Sal’s blade. Seemed both spells were to buffer Sal’s sharpness, and to protect Akeyla’s skin for her first time holding a true elven weapon.
She stood tall. Then she turned around and looked directly at Jax.
Fire danced from her hands to Sal’s handle, and up to the big blade behind her head. And then Akeyla did something I didn’t know she had the control to do—Sal’s blade burst into flame. Not the magic kind only I can see, but real, bright, hot flame. It flared upward as if Sal had just breathed fire, and quickly disappeared.
Sal tossed out a smug, satisfied axe-humph. Akeyla, though, didn’t seem any more or less satisfied by the display, just… stronger? More regal? She was most definitely Dagrun’s granddaughter.
I couldn’t tell if Jax responded. Gerard seemed impressed.
Akeyla reached to take my hand again, but realized she needed both to stabilize Sal on her shoulder. “Let’s go, Uncle Frank.” Then she walked toward the entrance into elven space.
I couldn’t tell if Maura was amused, proud, or shocked at Sal’s acceptance of her daughter. Maybe she was all three. I certainly was.
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