“Agreed.” Breanna didn’t look especially pleased at the prospect of bringing the dead back to life either.
Morgan turned and spotted MacGregor organizing the hunters. They were wearing some sort of armor, most of them equipped with spikes, maces, and older weapons plated with iron.
Mistress McKay was by his side with a handful of witches, and Morgan knew both groups would be remaining behind to protect the Academy.
Harper was organizing her own people, Kalvin hovering protectively behind her every step of the way, and Morgan had no doubt that they were the group heading out as bait to draw out the draugr.
Wolves were waiting by the wall and under the stairs, most of them bunched together in small groups. Half of them were stretched out along the floor, panting as they avidly watched while the Academy prepared for war, while the other half seemed to be prancing about, engaging in mock battles with each other.
Shade and Ward were leaning expressionless against the walls by the door, neither speaking, both watching the crowd. They had stripped out of their old clothes and wore form-fitting armor so black it reminded her of the obsidian blades she wore, and she suspected it was just as deadly. Tiny specks of lights seemed to shimmer within their armor’s depths, reminding her of the void, and she knew they were both heavily spelled. That type of armor couldn’t be made or purchased—it was earned.
The air around her thinned, turning cold, and a small warble echoed in her ears until her stomach churned. She turned until the sound faded, and she was facing the stone wall of the Academy.
Then the surface seemed to ripple. While she watched, a face began to push out of the rock as easily as wading through water. The head emerged first, then shoulders and a torso. Dirt and small grains of stone seemed to trickle down from the wall.
Smoky green eyes glowed, his skin a decaying olive color and so weathered it looked like leather, and his bones seemed to be poking their way out of his skin. The Viking was so massive he towered over everyone in the room. His head was bald, but he wore a full beard, the strands snarled and matted and appeared to have bugs crawling in them. His eyes darted around the room, his lips pulled back, revealing chipped, yellow, almost rusty, stained teeth. They chattered madly, as if he was already imagining how everyone would taste.
“Ward!” Morgan rushed forward, feeling warm metal solidify in her hands, but knowing she would never make it in time to stop the Viking from pulling himself completely free of the granite.
Even before she finished speaking, Ward was already in motion, drawing his blades and spinning to face the threat. He ran forward, kicking off the wall for height, bringing his weapon down, cleanly slicing the man’s skull in half.
Ward landed lightly on his feet, turning, his blade at the ready.
The draugr didn’t seem to notice that he’d been hit, his hungry gaze locked on the students as he continued to push through the wall. But his movements slowed, and he seemed almost confused when the half front of his face slid off to plop heavily onto the floor.
Then Shade calmly reached out and touched his hand to the creature’s massive, animal fur-covered chest. A spark ignited the matted fur in a whoosh of flames, and she watched in horror as the draugr tried to pat out the fire. His flesh sloughed off his body. When it splotched to the ground, the seared, meaty tissue began to ripple, and hundreds of bugs wormed their way out of the flesh and scrambled toward the door.
What was left of his body erupted like a volcano, and more bugs spewed forth to skitter away.
Then Loki charged between the students and began to stomp and chomp on the escaping critters. Thankfully, he seemed to spit out the remains rather than swallow them.
The stench of decay and burned flesh saturated the air until she’d swear she could taste it.
Mistress McKay strode forward, chanting under her breath, opened her arms then slammed them together. A blast rippled through the air, and the bugs began popping like they’d been heated in a pan, their dead carcasses flipping on their backs, their legs curling up.
When McKay brought her arms together again, they were reduced to dust and swept out the door…taking the stench of rotting decay with it.
“Students, you will work together in groups of five, two hunters and three witches. One witch will focus on keeping the barriers powered, one will light these assholes up, and the other will crush what remains. The hunters will draw them out and cut them down, and it is your job to do the rest. The wolves will work as distractions. Watch for anyone in distress. If we work as a team, we’ll all get out of this alive.”
The students and hunters nodded, while the wolves gave a series of yips, everyone in complete agreement for once.
The air behind her stirred, and Morgan turned, sensing the guys before she saw them. Every inch of them was covered with weapons. They wore a light armor, nothing magical, more to keep teeth and claws from ripping them apart. Seeing the group of them moving together was an impressive sight, and her heart leapt with the knowledge that they were hers.
“Mistress McKay, you will open the portal and get the first group on the other side of the barrier. Keep those wards standing. Once you’ve drawn the draugr away, Shade and Ward will shut down that portal.” Morgan released a heavy breath, worried that if anyone faltered, their whole plan would fail.
“Remember, you all are the distraction. Don’t risk your lives needlessly. Buy us as much time as you can, then retreat. We’re calling in our own backup to get rid of the draugr. Anyone have any questions?”
There was a beat of silence, then everyone stomped their feet twice and shouted. “Long live the Academy.”
They chanted it a few more times, then Mistress McKay and the headmistress began to organize the crews.
Kincade grabbed her arm, hustling her away from the students, Breanna and the rest of the guys following a close second behind. “We’ll go out the side door.”
When Loki scrambled after them, Morgan halted and turned to kneel in front of him. He skidded to a stop, his claws digging into the stones, and she gently ran her fingers over his big head. “I need you to stay and look after MacGregor, Mistress McKay, and Stanley for me. Can you do that?”
His head drooped like she’d taken away his favorite toy, practically slumping to the floor, completely dejected. “They’re going to be vulnerable without someone to look after them. I’m trusting you to keep them safe.”
His ears perked up a little, and she nudged his shoulder. “When this is over, I promise you can come running with Ryder and me and the rest of the wolves.”
He scrambled to his feet at the news, swiped his tongue over half her face, then shot down the hall in a whirlwind of feet as he skidded around a corner.
As she rose, two dozen students and teachers began chanting, and the magic in the room thickened until the air became heavy, almost stifling.
When she and her men exited through the side entrance, the garden looked calm, almost serene, the statues appearing to shift in the shadows.
When they turned the corner, they came face-to-face with a single draugr, a beast of a man towering over them, the sheer width of his shoulders almost spanning the length of her two arms stretched wide.
The guys fell into fighting stances and Breanna drew her sword, her image shimmering into her banshee form.
A large shadow made her glance up…in time to see Mal drop from the sky. He landed with a thud, crushing the Viking to the ground, using his full weight to keep the draugr pinned face-first.
Breanna shrugged her shoulder, then strode forward, decapitating the draugr with a single swipe, the black blade completing the job faster than the iron blade Ward had used earlier. The Viking practically exploded, scattering bugs and dirt in every direction, but the creepy-crawlies wiggled only a few feet away before they curled up and died.
Mal took a step, the bugs crackling under his feet, and Morgan nearly gaged at the sound. Then the gargoyle sank his hands and feet into the stone wall and began to pull himself upwa
rd, disappearing into the shadows of the night under a minute.
When everyone moved to the edge of the balcony, they hunkered down. The portal was more than fifty feet in the distance, most of the draugr having been drawn away. More than half ran along the lawn, but she saw a few that seemed to be swimming beneath the ground. About a dozen headed toward the Academy front doors, while another dozen remained behind, helping more of their friends through the portal.
Even as she watched, Shade and Ward appeared, as if out of thin air, right behind the zombie Vikings. Ward immediately went about hacking them into itty-bitty bits with steady determination to destroy everything in his path.
Shade followed a quick step behind, lighting up what remained before the creature could spring back to life…again.
Morgan turned toward Breanna. “How close do we need to get?”
“The closer we are to the draugr, the easier it will be to kill them.” Breanna pointed to the center of the clearing, only a few yards away from the current portal. “There.”
“I was afraid you were going to say that.” Morgan grimaced, then hauled herself to her feet. “Then I guess we’d better get going.”
Without waiting for the others, she leapt over the railing, landing lightly on her feet. Muttered curses blistered the air, then the guys joined her seconds later. Breanna didn’t jump. She turned into her banshee form and seemed to glide through the air.
“Show-off.” Morgan grumbled, then took off toward their target spot.
She saw Ward working to close the portal, and Shade was struggling with three creatures while a forth was trying to pull him underground and smother the flames he was throwing.
Breanna tore through two Vikings. The guys spread out around them…everyone except Ascher. He remained close to her side. “Get your blades out.”
Morgan nodded, then concentrated on forming a sword similar to Breanna’s obsidian blade, copying the runes etched along the sharp tip. The metal heated until it molded down her fingers like liquid mercury, then slowly spun outwards and flattened.
Steam rose slightly from the black metal. Even in the darkness, it seemed to shimmer, hungry for the fight. Though this blade was slightly shorter than the banshee’s weapon, she could feel magic biting along her fingers, eager to be used.
There was a mighty roar, and Morgan turned to see that the Viking portal had been torn down. Not just closed, but totally destroyed, nothing left but little bits of ash and cinder floating in the air.
A Viking horn pierced the silence of the night, and she saw the draugr who were trying to scale the Academy walls pause. They turned toward the sound like retrievers and then, as one, surged back toward them.
Her team had five minutes, maybe less, before they were surrounded.
Seconds later Shade and Ward were swallowed by the Viking horde.
“Morgan!” Breanna stood ten feet away from her, still in her ghostly form. She lifted her sword, the blade pointing to the ground, and Morgan immediately mimicked her moves. The instant the banshee slammed the blade into the dirt, a blast of light pierced the darkness. Even from the distance, the concussive force was enough to push Morgan back a step.
The air rippled as heat was sucked out of the atmosphere, the temperature dropping so quickly snowflakes seemed to dance around her. Conscious of Ward’s warning to not use magic, Morgan decided to keep things simple. Taking a deep breath, she gripped the blade, slicing her palm cleanly until blood dribbled down the metal. It seemed to settle into the etched symbols. Each time one filled, it would flare bright until they all glowed.
The metal practically vibrated and bucked in her grip.
Taking a deep breath, conscious of the sounds of fighting around her, Morgan lifted her sword, then slammed the weapon into the ground.
The earth seemed to tremble, and she half expected to be sucked into another dimension. The air went from cold to frigid, sucking out every ounce of warmth, even from her soul. Frost prickled against her skin, swirling up her fingers.
The metal scar on her arm warmed, the heat tingling along her flesh until her bones ached. She reflexively tightened her hold on the blade, remembering the warning…if she lost her hold, she would be pulled into the veil and possibly never emerge again.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Morgan lifted her head, surprised to see she was still on earth. Hoarfrost spread out from where her feet touched the ground, the grass crunching when she shifted, her breath frosting the air. She gritted her teeth to keep them from chattering, thankful to have the phoenix fluttering along her back. Though the heat stopped the spread of the frost up her arms, it barely chiseled away the invading cold.
Ribbons of light began to stretch between the two opposing blades, the energy merging together until a solid portal rippled into existence, flickering with a soft glow. They weren’t in the actual veil, but they were close enough for the power to spill over into the human realm.
There was a scream of rage from a draugr just three feet away as it was dragged across the lawn, his fingers digging in the grass, trying to pull himself free, but the pull toward the portal was irresistible. The dirt loosened, flew up in the air, and the Viking went flying toward the portal. The surface rippled as he hit, then he was slowly pulled under, sinking into the portal as if it were molasses. His skin color faded, his body seeming to flake away until only a shimmering, ghostly form remained.
“No!” He pounded against the portal, but didn’t have enough energy to cross back over.
Then wisps of darkness snaked up his legs, sinuously winding around his torso, the black inkiness slowly inching across the draugr’s face. The bindings tightened, until only the black ribbon remained, the body completely consumed. Then the darkness flaked off like black snow in search of more prey.
“What the hell was that?”
“A minion of the reapers—a pet like a guard dog if you will—that can sense the dead. It hunts those who have been judged and found guilty, sending them to hell.”
Strong arms wrapped around her, startling her so badly, she nearly lost her hold on the sword. The scent of warm coals surrounded her, and she sagged into Ascher’s warmth. The crackle of ice filled the air, steam swirling around them.
“Damn it, you scared the hell out of me.” Shivers wracked her body. She didn’t realize how frozen she’d become until he touched her. When she glanced back at him, it was to see small holes were burned through his shirt, like cinders had landed on him.
“Fuck. Why didn’t you call me sooner?” Ascher tucked his face into the crook of her neck, tightening his hold. “Let me know if it’s too much.”
“I can handle whatever you can dish out.” Morgan chuckled, ignoring the way her teeth chattered.
She turned and saw Kincade and Atlas working together, driving a draugr closer to the veil. Instead of the draugr being sucked in like the first one, Ambrose’s image shimmered into view, along with a dozen or so others behind him.
With a savage grin, the warrior lifted his weapon and gave a battle cry—part human, part animal—that echoed around them. Without one ounce of hesitation, he strode boldly into the human world.
The veil rippled, part of it seeming to cling to him as he stood in the portal until his ghostly form took physical shape. As each person crossed and took form, it syphoned more and more magic, until her insides began to turn hollow. Morgan lost count of the ghosts who crossed, but a mob poured through, some just a wisp of fog more intent on escape than taking physical form.
The huntsmen met the main surge of draugr, the two separate forces clashing with a clang of metal and grunts of pain.
Ambrose swung a double axe that was taller than Morgan, cleaving a man in two with one swipe. Instead of moving onto the next victim, his hand turned ghostly as he stuck it into the creature’s chest.
Something seemed to crawl beneath the bluish skin of the draugr. Then, with a mighty heave, Ambrose pulled a ghostly shape clear out of the Viking. The body immediately fell apart, crumb
ling into a pile of dust and bones.
Some of the paler ghosts latched onto the Viking, brightening even as the Viking faded, stealing what little life remained until he faded into nothing. The sword pulsed, and she knew the dead Viking had slipped into the veil where he should’ve gone when he first died.
The veil flickered ominously, a ripple going through the portal as it flickered in and out of existence. Morgan dropped to her knees, the world dimming around the edges. Ascher was whispering to her, but dammed if she could hear anything beyond the air whooshing in her ears.
“She must pull out the sword before she releases her hold or she’ll be pulled into the veil. In her condition, she won’t survive long.”
Morgan blinked, surprised to find Breanna standing over her. Then the banshee lifted her sword, whirling away to slice down the draugr reaching for them. A heavy blow knocked Morgan sideways, ripping Ascher away, and the bitter cold surged back like ice in her veins, the splash of cold like being dumped in ice water.
She turned to see Ascher being pinned to the ground by two draugr, one reaching out to casually snap his arm like it was a twig. Ascher’s scream was muffled behind his clenched teeth. He kicked one of them off him, struggling to his feet as the second Viking lifted his mighty fist, knocking into him so hard that he went flying.
He didn’t get up.
A massive wolf jumped between Ascher and the draugr, his vicious snarl echoing in her head.
Ryder.
When the draugr raised his short axe, Ryder lunged, his fangs sinking into the creature’s arm, nearly dragging the Viking to the ground. Instead of fighting, the draugr lifted his arm with Ryder attached, then slammed the wolf against the ground with a resounding thud. Ryder yipped and lost his hold, staggering on all fours as he struggled to his feet.
The draugr lifted the axe again, when a second, smaller wolf leapt between them, the edges of the axe slicing along his side. Kaleb—a lone wolf who Ryder took under his wing. The wolf gave a distressed yelp, landed with a heavy thump, and didn’t move. Kaleb panted, gave another whine, tried to lift his head, only for it to drop back down.
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