by Jane Godman
“She is the person who founded the brotherhood. Angrboda has always taken a personal interest in our progress.”
Amber indicated her bare feet, tousled hair, and oversized clothing. “Would you call this progress?”
Vigo caught hold of her elbow, steering her toward the communal room where the rest of the team were gathered. Touching her may have been a mistake. Tiny sparks ignited from the point where his fingers made contact with her flesh, firing along his nerve endings until his whole body was alight. How the fuck had he become hooked on that sensation in such a short time? Even more addicting was Amber’s soft indrawn breath. No more than a sigh, he found himself waiting for it, needing to hear the affirmation that his touch had the same impact on her.
Just how screwed up could he get? Wanting her so much when he knew he couldn’t have her? But he already knew the answer to that question. When it came to screwed up, nobody did it better than Vigo.
* * *
Although Amber’s inner wolf wanted to dig her heels in like a reluctant cub, Vigo’s hand on her elbow was firm. Since she didn’t want to be hauled before the goddess like a naughty child, she allowed him to lead her into a large, brightly lit room.
The first thing that hit her was the atmosphere. It was hard to pinpoint why it felt so comfortable, but the sense of warmth and welcome were tangible. There was that same feeling of comradeship emanating from this group that she had experienced when they had stepped from the plane. It wrapped itself around her like a hug, and, for the first time, she wondered what it would be like to be a part of this. She allowed herself a brief daydream.
Focus. Where was that inner strength she had worked so hard to achieve? All she had to do was get through this ordeal, then walk away. No one could force her to be a part of this brotherhood. She cast a sidelong glance at Vigo and her insides did that strange melting thing again. Some of her certainty deserted her. Okay, she was fairly sure no one could force her.
There were six men and three women in the room, all of them seated on a variety of sofas and chairs that were arranged in a U shape around a large coffee table. Beer and water bottles and coffee cups covered the surface of the table. One of the men, bigger than all of the others, was talking. He appeared to be telling an amusing story and everyone else was listening to him and laughing. The laughter stopped as they all turned to look at the new arrivals.
Amber was caught in the gaze of nine pairs of eyes. Seven of them were the same brilliant gold color as her own. One pair were blue and the other were vivid green. Although Amber was a werewolf, the sensation of being hunted was nothing new. She had been on the run for too long to have any illusions. This was different. The scrutiny lasted only a few seconds, but she felt as if her whole being had been turned inside out. Every part of her was being investigated. Just as she was starting to bristle, the woman with the green eyes got to her feet.
Her flaming red hair, her height and the sheer force of her personality made her unmistakable. Before they had been wiped out, Amber’s family had raised her in the traditional werewolf teachings. She had learned all about the goddess. Hair like fire, eyes like emeralds, skin like cream. Amber had memorized every one of the stories, and she knew what was expected of her. Placing her hand over her heart, she bent her knee and bowed her head.
Angrboda caught hold of Amber’s hands, drawing her to her feet. As befitted a goddess, her voice was deep and powerful. “You are very welcome here.”
The female Arctic werewolf patted the seat next to her. “Sit here. We’ve all been there with the post-shift wardrobe malfunction.” As Amber sat down, the other woman rolled her eyes sympathetically in the direction of Amber’s sweatpants.
“I’ll find you something more suitable.” The woman with the blue eyes turned her head to look at Vigo, a look of mock sternness on her face. “Men just don’t think about these things, do they?”
“I think Amber just passed the initiation test, but you failed.” The large man placed a hand on Vigo’s shoulder, almost bringing him to his knees.
Vigo grimaced as he met Amber’s eyes. He seemed aware that she was feeling totally out of her depth and his expression conveyed his compassion and support. “Amber, you have met the goddess Angrboda, Jenny”—he indicated the female Arctic werewolf—“and Cindy. Since the rest of us look alike, we are less easy to remember.”
“Speak for yourself.” The big guy grinned as he moved forward to greet Amber. “I’m Samson.”
He leaned down to bump his nose against hers. It was a friendly gesture, signaling nonaggression and acceptance. Amber knew that, but nose bumps hadn’t featured in her life for a very long time. To her shame, she couldn’t stop herself from shrinking back in her seat as the big Arctic werewolf loomed over her.
There was a moment’s silence before Samson straightened and moved away. Although he smoothed over the awkwardness of the moment, Amber knew everyone had seen it. Heat flamed in her cheeks and she cast a pleading look in Vigo’s direction. The message was clear: Get me out of here.
His answering gaze conveyed his understanding, but it also told her she wasn’t leaving any time soon. Her insides shriveled a little bit more. Bashfulness wasn’t a wolf trait. She shouldn’t have felt intimidated by this situation, and she wouldn’t allow her anxiety to show. A shy wolf? She didn’t fit the image of the big, bad creature in the myths and fairy tales.
Around her, the conversation started up again and she sensed it was an attempt to put her at her ease. A man who appeared older than the others—she guessed he must be Gunnar—handed Amber a bottle of water and she accepted it gratefully. She guessed she wasn’t going to have a problem backing out of this arrangement after all. She reminded herself that this guy was actually a god, one who must be looking at her and wondering how the hell his recruitment system had gone so hopelessly wrong.
As she looked around the room at the others, Jenny lowered her voice, giving a brief commentary on the members of the group.
“You’ve already been introduced to Samson. He’s always the first to catch the eye with his muscles and his jokes. On the surface he can be brash, but he’s a loyal friend and there’s no one I’d rather go to with a problem. Samson is our tracker, and he has an extra sense that allows him to trace emotions as well as scents.”
She nodded at the two men seated directly opposite. “That’s Lowell, who is married to Odessa, the leader of the Siberian werewolves. Lowell is the wise man of the brotherhood. He knows everything there is to know about werewolf legend and folklore. The man he’s talking to is Wilder, my husband. Wilder was the leader of the brotherhood on my first mission.” Jenny smiled reminiscently “It feels like we’ve come full circle. Back then, we tracked down and recaptured Fenrir after he escaped his prison and went on the rampage. Now, we’re discussing how to stop Fenrir from continuing his reign of terror. Wilder is the brotherhood’s organizer.”
Two other men were opening bottles of beer and handing them around. Amber recognized one of them as the man she had seen in town. In a room full of striking people, he stood out. “Although he gets a lot of teasing because of his good looks, Madden doesn’t like being the center of attention. He used to be a police officer in the human world and the extra perception that served him so well helps him in the brotherhood. He’s the team’s detective, solving problems and paying attention to detail.” Jenny indicated his companion. “Sebastian is a creative thinker. He jokes that every team needs one person to do the wrong thing at the wrong time. He and Madden are friends, even though their friendship brought them into conflict in the past when Sebastian’s maverick tendencies led him to break the law.”
The blue-eyed woman rolled her eyes. “I’m Cindy, Sebastian’s fiancée. The whole maverick thing? That extends to every part of our lives.” She gave a laugh and her face softened as she looked at Sebastian. “But it’s fun not knowing what each day will bring. I’ve been friends with everyone in the brotherhood for a few years now. I joined them by default on their las
t mission. I’m a convert, not a true blood.”
Amber understood what Cindy was saying. She was a human who had become a werewolf when she took her lover’s bite. Apart from Angrboda, Cindy was the only person in the room who did not have the distinctive, Arctic werewolf appearance. Everyone else was tall and muscular with white-blond hair, Nordic features, and amber eyes. In comparison, Cindy appeared tiny. With her chestnut hair and huge blue eyes, she looked out of place and frail.
Jenny seemed to read Amber’s mind. “Don’t let Cindy’s appearance fool you. She faced Fenrir in a fight . . . and she was incredible.”
“He was going to kill Sebastian. I had no choice.” Cindy’s grin transformed her expression from gentle to determined. “And I’d do it again.”
The two women clinked their bottles of water together. Jenny laughed. “Feels good to have other women on the team. The guys joke that I’m the brotherhood’s secret weapon.”
“It’s true,” Cindy assured Amber. “No one expects the female member of the group to be the best fighter, but Jenny is fearsome. You see pretty, generous and caring? Put her in the middle of a fight and she’s deadly.”
“What about Vigo?” Amber asked the question that was burning her up. “What’s his special talent?”
“Vigo is a healer. In his human job as a paramedic he brings empathy and skill to the role. With his fellow werewolves, he helps mend our injuries.” Jenny followed Amber’s gaze. “I only wish he would take a little time out and turn those restorative powers on himself.”
Amber was about to ask what she meant when Gunnar focused the conversation on a specific topic. It took her a few minutes to realize they were discussing the notorious werewolf god, Fenrir.
“If he has access to eighty million brainwashed followers, I don’t want to wait around until his next move takes up by surprise.” There was a restless impatience in Vigo’s manner that called to something in Amber’s own nature. She didn’t do caution and restraint and it seemed he didn’t either.
“What are you suggesting?” Gunnar sat on the arm of one of the sofas, his gaze becoming intent.
“For the past four and a half years, Fenrir and Chastel were working in partnership. They were using mind control on Sean Chadwick and Philip Fenk, two harmless computer geniuses. Posing as Chadwick and Fenk, they created an online gaming channel, Byte Me, through which they brainwashed their followers across the globe. We know that Chadwick and Fenk built Byte Me up until it became the most popular channel in the world, with five times as many subscribers as its nearest rival. Up to eighty million of them, if Odessa’s estimate is correct, and we have no reason to suspect she is wrong. If Fenrir is lying in his dungeon, plotting his next move, he can stage an attack anywhere.”
“Which means he can send us halfway across the world, then hit a different target—or a number of targets—while we are distracted,” Wilder said.
“While not moving one of his chained muscles.” Samson had thrown a cushion down on the floor and was half reclining against the sofa, beer bottle in hand.
Maybe it was because she was so aware of him, but Amber sensed the power in the room was with Vigo. Even though most of the people present were alpha werewolves, and they were in the presence of a god and a goddess, they were deferring to him.
“We have to manage his movements.” Vigo reached for a bottle of water and drained half of it. “While he is at Jotunheim, we have no idea who he is controlling.”
Gunnar nodded. “I agree. You have to let him think he is in charge.”
Vigo looked around the room, as though seeking the agreement of his companions. “You know what this means?” One by one, they nodded, their expressions grim. “We have to move him from Jotunheim to a place where he can be killed.”
Amber was so shocked at what she was hearing she jerked upright in her seat, spilling some of her water down the front of her T-shirt. She couldn’t have heard him right. They couldn’t seriously be talking about taking Fenrir, the werewolf god of destruction, away from his prison cell.
Before she could ask Vigo for clarification, there was a knock on the door and a man, another Arctic werewolf, burst in. He was panting so hard he struggled to speak. “Explosion . . . over at the satellite station . . .”
Amber jumped to her feet. “The Norway Tech station?” He nodded. “What happened?”
“It sounds crazy, but it looks like it was a bomb . . .”
Chapter Five
They paused long enough for Amber to borrow some clothes from Cindy before the brotherhood set off toward the Norway Tech station.
“Since there is no mobile phone signal out here, I was checking the radio for news.” The man who had brought the information about the explosion helped to organize the sleds. Vigo explained that whenever the brotherhood visited Svalbard, a group of local werewolves acted as guides during their stay.
“Using dogs to drive our sleds is never an easy task. They get confused by the presence of so many werewolves.” Amber could see the truth of what Vigo was saying for herself. The well-trained huskies had become subdued in the presence of the dominant animals and were struggling to obey the simplest commands. “Luckily, Jenny has an affinity with dogs.”
Jenny moved among the huskies as he spoke. Stripping off her gloves, she held out her hands, allowing the dogs to sniff her bare skin. She spoke soothingly to them, overcoming their fears with calming words, until the teams were calm and ready to set off.
“What will we do without you?” Vigo asked, as Jenny returned to her own sled.
“Enjoy a white-knuckle ride as your hounds try to get away from you,” Jenny said with a laugh.
“Jenny is the person who is leaving the brotherhood?” Amber asked in surprise. She had only known her a short time, but Jenny seemed to be a pivotal part of the team. Even if Amber wanted to, she couldn’t replace someone who played such an important role and knew the others so well.
“She and Wilder are expecting their first child,” Vigo said.
Amber shivered as he helped her onto his sled. She didn’t need them, but Vigo pulled several layers of warm blankets over her. They would be going through Longyearbyen itself and, even at this time of night, it was important to keep up appearances. If they drew attention to themselves by showing that they didn’t need protection from the cold, they risked losing the anonymity every werewolf craved. Although Amber wanted to protest that she could take care of her own needs, she subsided and allowed him to tuck the blankets around her legs. Just this once, she was going to give in to the sensation of letting him care for her.
Just this once.
It was snowing again as they approached Longyearbyen. The scene ahead of them was a winter fairyland viewed through dancing snowflakes and the pluming breath of the dogs. Twinkling lights below competed with the multicolored sky above as they whipped past the town and on toward the satellite station. Amber tried to ignore her dread of what they would find when they arrived.
The light changed, signaling the horror up ahead. The icy landscape mirrored the orange fireball that had once been Amber’s workplace. A black plume of smoke rose into the air, obliterating the glorious display of the midnight sun. Choking fumes greeted them as they approached, drawing the oxygen from the air and making Amber gasp as she inhaled. Ash and burning embers fell with the snow.
Vigo held up a hand and they drew their sleds to a halt in a line. Shocked, Amber gazed at the place where she had lived and worked for the last three years. Everything was ablaze, the station itself, the communal room, the employee accommodation . . .
She got to her feet, turning her head to look at Vigo. “If you hadn’t come in search of me tonight, I would have been in there.”
His arm was tight around her waist, holding her against the firm strength of his body, letting her know he was there for her. “We need to find out what happened.”
There were three fire trucks at the scene and a helicopter hovered overhead. Even so, it was clear that the town’s rescu
e services were not going to be able to fight a fire of this magnitude.
“Ordinarily, I wouldn’t expect a fire chief to talk to us in the middle of an operation,” Vigo said. “But you had a narrow escape from that explosion. Let’s see if we can find out who’s in charge.”
Leaving the others with the sleds, he took Amber’s hand and led her toward the fire trucks that were lined up at the compound gates. A man in a firefighter uniform ran toward them, gesturing for them get back, but Vigo stood his ground.
“We need to speak to the chief.” He had to shout to be heard above the roaring flames and the sound of gallons of water being pumped at high speed toward the fire.
“I am the chief. Now get the hell out of here.”
Amber took a step closer. “I work here.”
The chief paused, his expression changing from urgency to sympathy. “Not any more you don’t.”
“Are you able to tell us what happened?” Vigo asked.
The chief drew them farther away from the compound gates. “It’s too early to say for sure, but we’re fairly certain it was a bomb attack. It looks like there was more than one device. There were three simultaneous explosions. One in the station itself, one in the communal room, and a third in the cabin that is farthest from the station.”
Amber felt the world swim slightly out of focus. “That’s my cabin.”
The chief frowned. “Then I’d say you are one lucky lady. There is nothing left of that building except toothpicks.”
“What about casualties?”
He pointed to the furnace in front of them. “No survivors so far.” He shook his head. “What sort of person comes to Longyearbyen to carry out a terrorist attack?”
Amber’s head jerked up sharply at the familiar phrase. “Retief.”
“Pardon?” Vigo gazed at her in concern.
“One of the new employees, a man called Retief”—the words were tumbling out too fast, and she drew a breath, willing herself to slow down—“he made a joke about coming to Longyearbyen to commit a crime or carry out a terrorist attack.” She frowned, trying to recall the details of the conversation. “I didn’t think about it at the time, but it was strange that he knew where you were staying.”