by Jane Godman
Amber wasn’t in the mood for conversation and explanations. It was amazing how the only person she really wanted to talk to at any great length was Vigo. The other members of the brotherhood and their friends and family were tolerable. She even quite liked them. But the rest of the world? She could get by without it.
When she didn’t answer, the driver seemed the get the message and they undertook the journey in silence. Amber rehearsed what she was going to say.
“Did you kill Vigo’s former boss?” She didn’t care that it was plain rude. She’d done rude for most of her adult life. It was also an outlandish allegation to throw at someone. I don’t have time for diplomacy. But, even if Kristof had killed Monique, it was doubtful he would admit it. Plus, it seemed likely that the man with the rasping voice was the murderer.
“Do you know the man with the voice and did you tell him we were going to visit Monique yesterday?” Again, why would he tell her if he had?
She would have to try diplomacy after all. Or cunning. She sighed. I’m a wolf, not a fox. Trickery had never been her strong point. I’ll start by asking Kristof how he is and hope he doesn’t think I’m coming on to him.
By the time the cab pulled up outside a bland apartment block, she had a script in her head. Her acting skills were questionable, but she hoped she could come across as sufficiently concerned about Kristof’s well-being to at least get over the threshold.
Having paid off the cab, she took a moment to view her surroundings. They weren’t pleasant. Gunnar was right about the view. She wondered why, when Fairbanks and the local area had so much beautiful scenery, anyone would choose to build so close to a disused mine. The scarred landscape looked like a setting from a science-fiction movie while the ruined buildings had a sad quality to them that was out of sync with the majestic hills in the distance. If Kristof’s mood was still low, she couldn’t see it being lifted by his environment.
There was always a chance, of course, that he would be out. But it was the weekend, and there was more chance of finding him at home today than at any other time. And the way her luck was holding, he would be there. Just because she didn’t want him to be.
Although the row of buzzers at the side of the front door was clearly labeled, Amber realized she didn’t know Kristof’s last name. How crazy is that? We fought side by side to kill a demented god, but we only know each other by our first names.
There were only four apartments on the third floor and only one of those appeared to be a possibility: K. Larson. She pressed the buzzer and waited. When there was no response after a few minutes, she buzzed again, keeping her finger on the button for longer this time.
“Yes?” It was Kristof’s voice and, even though it was only one word, he sounded pissed off.
“It’s Amber.”
There was a pause. “What do you want?”
“Well, my first choice would be not to have a conversation through an intercom.”
There was a sound that could have been a snort of laughter. “Come up.”
Amber pulled the door when she heard the sound of him releasing it. She paused in the act of stepping over the threshold, very aware that no one knew where she was. A shiver ran down her spine. It felt a lot like a warning and she did her best to shrug it aside.
Twenty minutes. Half an hour tops. I want to look him in the eye. See if I can judge whether he is involved in any of this. Then I’m out of here.
She didn’t really believe Kristof was dangerous. How could he be part of the brotherhood if that was the case? Gunnar wouldn’t have got this so wrong. He had been recruiting the right people for centuries. If Kristof had any involvement in the murder of Monique Taylor, it was more likely to be accidental. Something he had let slip to an acquaintance, a throwaway remark. She just needed to make sure . . .
Taking a deep breath, she forced her reluctant feet into the building. Just an ordinary building. Not a lion’s den. Even so, as she moved toward the elevator, the feeling of invisible eyes watching her grew stronger by the minute.
* * *
Vigo was bored. He hated shopping at the best of times and right now it was driving him demented. It was only an hour since he’d left Amber and he was missing her . . . and what the hell was that all about? If she’d had a cell phone, he’d have called her and arranged to meet her early. In fact, he was going to buy her a cell phone right now so they didn’t have this problem in the future.
Just as he was about to put that plan into action, his own phone buzzed in his pocket. Checking the display, Vigo saw it was Lowell.
“You might want to get back here.” Lowell didn’t bother with a greeting.
“Care to give me a clue about why?”
“I’ve found a very old, very obscure text referring to Fenrir’s mate.” The serious note in Lowell’s voice stopped Vigo in his tracks. “Her name is Rav. It’s a Norwegian word meaning ‘amber.’”
“Fuck.” Aware he was blocking the sidewalk, Vigo stepped to one side. “But Fenrir is dead. Even if he wasn’t, the chains and sword were never going to make him good husband material.”
“True. But Fenrir talked about a debt. I’ve been giving it some thought. Supposing a pact was forged before Fenrir’s death? A debt was owing that meant someone—maybe a man, a Hellhound, or a werewolf, with a distinctive voice—had to deliver Fenrir’s bride to him? What if the person in Fenrir’s debt doesn’t know he’s dead? The debt must still be paid.”
“Oh, hell. He’s been trying to get me out of the way so he can come after Amber.”
“At least she’s not on her own . . .”
Vigo didn’t listen to any more. He finished the call while Lowell was still speaking and started running. The department store where he’d left Amber an hour ago was bustling with Saturday afternoon shoppers. Ignoring the protests, he pushed his way through them, taking the stairs two at a time to the women’s clothing department. He reasoned that Amber should be easy to see. Her white-blond hair would make her stand out, even in this colorful environment. Using his own height to his advantage, he scanned the whole area. There was no sign of her.
Lingerie. That had been the most important thing on her mind. Feeling like a giant in an alien landscape, he made his way through the stands and displays of flimsy, colorful scraps of lace and ribbon.
“Excuse me.” The assistant turned to him with a practiced smile. “My girlfriend . . .” Despite everything that was going on, he took a moment to consider how the word made him feel. He liked it. A lot. “ . . . was just in here. I said I’d meet her. I wondered if you’d seen her?”
“I remember seeing you when you came in here together. You make a striking couple with your unusual coloring.” The woman frowned. “But I haven’t seen her since she left just after you did.”
Vigo’s heart did a dramatic downward swoop. “You must be mistaken. She had a lot of things to buy.”
“No. She waited a few minutes until you’d gone and then she left.” The assistant spoke with the calm authority of a woman who had people-watched for years. She knew what she had seen.
Why, Amber? What the fuck was that about? He glanced at his watch. It was still another hour until he had arranged to meet her. Wherever she had gone, she could be perfectly safe. There was no reason at all for this crawling feeling of panic in his gut. Except there is. His inner wolf overrode his human, telling him his mate was in danger and he needed to go to her.
How the hell am I supposed to do that when I don’t know where she is?
Forcing himself to get a grip on his emotions, he called Lowell back. “Amber isn’t with me. It may not be a big deal.”
“You think it is a big deal.” Telepathy didn’t work well long distance, but his friend had clearly picked up on something in his voice.
“It could be.” Saying it out loud made it real. “She was supposed to be shopping, but she isn’t where I thought she’d be. You gather the team together there. I’ll wait here.”
Action. Decision. Moving forwar
d. They were the things Vigo was good at. Waiting? He was very, very bad at that.
There was a coffee shop directly across the street from the front entrance of the department store. Vigo usually avoided caffeine. Some werewolves had adapted to their human craving for the substance, others hated it. He just wasn’t interested. Right now, it seemed like a good idea. Plus, he could watch out for Amber returning.
When she did he was going to do two things. He just wasn’t sure which would come first. Kiss her so hard she saw stars? Or grab her by the shoulders and demand an explanation? He would decide while he drank his coffee.
* * *
“You look much better,” Amber said, as Kristof held open the door to allow her to step into his apartment.
It was true. His skin had lost its gray color and the hunted look had gone from his eyes.
“Thanks. Like I said, I needed some thinking time.” He led her through to a large open-plan room. “Can I get you a drink?”
Amber shook her head as she took a seat on the sofa he indicated. “Now I see what they did with the view.”
The full-length windows showed a sweeping vista across a wide green valley, gradually taking her eyes higher toward distant snowy peaks with a strip of clear blue sky above.
He smiled. “Yeah, the coal mine hurts your eyes, but you don’t see it once you are inside. And the place is cheap.”
Until now, her plan had seemed easy. Go and see Kristof to find out if he’s one of the bad guys. Or at least if he’s let something slip to the bad guys. Now she was face-to-face with him, the words she’d rehearsed in the cab went out of her head and the whole idea felt foolish. It wasn’t like she knew this man. He was more-or-less a stranger to her. And she wasn’t good at conversation.
Kristof seemed so normal. There was none of the weirdness she had seen from him the last time they’d been together. Even so, he had been troubled, had confided in her, and she reasoned it was acceptable to ask about that.
“I came to see if you were okay.”
He sighed, coming to sit near her on the sofa. “I think so. I didn’t expect to react that way, you know?” His expression was open, and Amber decided she liked him more now than she had at any time since she’d met him. “Gunnar told me exactly what the brotherhood was all about. I knew what I was getting into, but when it came to it . . . when we killed Fenrir . . .” He shuddered. “I can’t describe what it felt like.”
“It was kind of gory.” Amber wasn’t sure what to say. We’re werewolves. Gory is what we do.
“No.” Kristof shook his head. “It wasn’t about the blood or the killing. It was about something that happened inside me as Fenrir died.”
“Is that because of who he was? Did you feel bad about killing a god? Even a wicked one?”
“Possibly. But I barely knew Fenrir’s story. My family is first-generation werewolf. We don’t revere the old Norse gods.” That explained why he hadn’t known anything about Fenrir’s story when they were at Jotunheim. It made Amber see him differently. He was ill informed rather than creepy. “Who knows what it was? I need to talk to the others about whether they want me to continue as part of the brotherhood. I fell apart. Does that mean I’m still one of the seven strongest and bravest?”
“You did fall apart.” Amber scanned his face for any sign of the trauma she had seen the previous day. It was such a short time and such a dramatic change. “What happened to put you back together?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” There was the faintest flicker in his eyes. The unmistakable, predatory expression was returning.
“Yesterday you were an emotional wreck. Today you’re a picture of health. What’s your secret?” She emphasized the word, pushing him harder. To hell with this. She hadn’t come here to waste her time on idle chitchat. “Did you tell anyone Vigo and I were going to see his former boss?”
Kristof’s brows snapped together. She would have sworn his confusion was genuine. Except for that look. It was deepening. Darkening. Growing stronger by the second. “Why would I do that?”
Frustration gave her voice a harsher edge. “Soon after I told you that, Vigo’s former boss was murdered.”
“You think I had something to do with that?” He leaned toward her as he spoke, placing his hand over hers. The gesture might have been harmless. Might also have been threatening.
The decision to come here had always been a lukewarm one. It was cooling rapidly. “Of course not. I just wondered if you’d spoken to anyone. Look I should probably go . . .”
“No.” Kristof shook his head slowly. “Don’t go. I need you, Amber.”
Oh, hell. He was between her and the door. There was only one decision left. Fight him as a human, or shift and take him as a werewolf? She sized him up. He probably wouldn’t expect her human to have the sort of street-fighting skills she had honed over her years of enforced isolation.
Take him by surprise. Go for his eyes first, then his balls . . .
She was preparing to lunge, when a knock on the door startled them both.
“Kristof? It’s Gunnar. Open up.”
Chapter Fourteen
“I waited a full half hour after the time we were supposed to meet.” Vigo could hear the rising note of anxiety in his own voice.
“You don’t think she could have just lost track of time while she was shopping?” Samson asked.
“Something has happened to her.” Vigo tried to avoid snarling at his friends, but at time like this it was necessary. Samson held up his hands in a gesture of surrender.
“I agree with Vigo,” Lowell said. “Even if Amber had been delayed for some innocent reason, she’d have made her way back here by now.”
There were five members of the brotherhood seated in their familiar places around Lowell’s table. Vigo, Lowell, Samson, Wilder, and Madden were ready to spring into action as soon as they knew what they hell was going on.
Meanwhile, Amber was missing. Vigo couldn’t think beyond that single thought. Couldn’t act, couldn’t move, couldn’t lead. Couldn’t focus on anything except her and how she needed him and there was nothing he could do. And whatever she was facing, she didn’t know he loved her. Because he hadn’t gotten around to telling her that simple, earth-shattering truth. When he first met her, he thought he couldn’t. Then, when he told her about his past and she didn’t flinch from it, it felt like he had time. Time to relax and do it properly. To woo her with the romance she deserved. Now he wished he’d swept her into his arms and never let her go.
“This is one of the most difficult things about being the leader.” Wilder’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “When your mate is in danger and you don’t know how to rescue her.”
Knowing each of his friends had been in the same situation didn’t take the fear away, but at least it meant he didn’t have to talk about it. No one was going to expect rational conversation from him. Although he did need some answers.
He turned to Lowell. “I don’t understand how we never knew about Fenrir’s mate until now.”
“I’ve only been able to find one reference to her and, as I said, it’s in an ancient and obscure text. It’s one line of a prophecy stating that Fenrir’s mate will be a werewolf born in the northern lands beneath a fireball comet. Her name will be Rav, or Amber.”
“He must have had people hunting for her,” Vigo said. “It’s easy to find out when the fireball comet was, so he had an idea when and where Amber was born. When he escaped five years ago, that was one of his tasks. He set out to find her, but also to capture her.”
“But how did he know about you?” Samson asked. “The photographs of you and Lilah were taken before Fenrir escaped. How could he have known you posed a threat to his plans for Amber?”
“Once he discovered who Amber was, Fenrir would have made sure he knew everything about her,” Lowell said. “He’d have used his supernatural powers to find out about her future mate. Any information he could use to damage Vigo would have been in the hands of his human f
ollowers and would have formed part of the plan to destroy him.”
Vigo thought back to that never - to - be - sufficiently - regretted night with Lilah. Samson’s questions and Lowell’s explanation made some sense. Was she the person who’d hidden the camera? If so, he’d never know whether it was another kink, or whether the plan had been to blackmail him further down the line. Knowing Lilah, he preferred to think the best of her. Preferred to remember her as sex-crazed but harmless.
When Fenrir had turned his attention to Amber and used his psychic abilities to discover that Vigo was a potential mate for Fenrir’s own love interest, any possible dirt had been useful. Those photographs had provided the starting point for a murder plot . . . he closed his eyes briefly as he thought of the two innocent women who had lost their lives as a result. Lilah and Monique were dead because they knew him. Fenrir’s followers might have ordered their deaths, but that didn’t take away the responsibility Vigo felt. The only thing he could do now was bring their killer to justice.
Madden had remained silent, but he spoke up now. “Fenrir died quietly.”
“He had no choice.” Vigo’s lip curled. “He was outnumbered, remember?”
Madden shook his head slowly. “He was the god of destruction. The most feared werewolf ever known. Yes, there were seven of us, but”—he glanced around the table as though fearful of saying the next words out loud—“looking back, didn’t it feel a little like he was putting on a show?”
There was silence. Lowell eventually broke it. “What would be the value in that? He still died.”
Vigo felt his heart begin the thud in a heavy, uneven rhythm as he started to grasp what Madden was saying. “His spirit has left his body before.”
“Oh, fuck.” Samson’s expletive summed up the way they were all feeling. “Did he enter another body before he died?”