“Many,” Tatiana said in a surprisingly serious voice. “We all make a multitude of choices in our lives. Some of them are small and of little consequence. Others can change the entire path of the future. You might want to think about that in the days ahead. Your Magnus is a good man, for all that he is an Ulfhednar and not a Witch, and you could do a lot worse. You don’t want to end up an old maid like me, now do you?”
Donata stared at the phone. Where had that come from? “He’s not ‘my Magnus,’ Auntie. And he has a life here, with his family. Once he has completed his Ulf training, everything will have changed. He’s a good man, and I’m very fond of him, but we don’t have any future together.” She laughed, trying to lighten the mood. “Besides, didn’t you know? I’ve always wanted to grow up to be just like you.”
Her great-aunt snorted. “Fine. Don’t listen to the psychic. Oh, and don’t worry about trying a little healing magic on Magnus’s friend. It works in a completely different way than spells and rituals; you’re simply tapping into the universal energy that is all around us and channeling it so that its power is directed where it is needed. There are even some Humans that can do it, so I hear. There shouldn’t be any chance of it causing harm—the worst that would happen would be nothing.”
“Thank you, Auntie,” Donata said. “I’ll give it a try.”
“Take care of yourself, dear. And give that lovely Magnus a kiss for me. A nice juicy one, with a bit of tongue.”
“Aunt Tatiana!” Donata said, but her great-aunt had already hung up, chortling.
Dinner that night was a somber affair, except for the liveliness of the children, who had no idea what was going on and continued their usual antics until their mother snapped at them to stop behaving like wild animals. No one but Donata seemed to see the irony in that—what with them all being Shapechangers—and she wasn’t about to mention it under the circumstances. She and Kari had established a kind of armed détente and she didn’t want to do anything to screw it up.
Lora had regained consciousness before they left the hospital, but she’d been dazed and confused and hadn’t been able to communicate anything about what had caused her to fall. Donata had done healing work on the woman for hours and hoped that along with her natural Ulfhednar toughness, it would help her recover. But in the meanwhile, Donata was exhausted, and they still had tonight’s meeting to get through.
There had been an argument about whether or not she should attend. Unsurprisingly, Kari had been vocal in her protest against it, although Magnus had insisted that since Donata was heavily involved in the efforts to get to the bottom of the issue, she needed to be at the meeting with everyone else.
“She is not Ulfhednar,” Halvor said, his arms crossed over his broad chest.
“She’s engaged to Magnus,” Astrid countered. “That makes her family, which makes her an honorary Ulfhednar, at the very least. She’s going.”
Halvor opened his mouth, probably to protest that the engagement was fake and therefore didn’t count, took one look at his wife’s face, and closed it again without saying another word.
And that was that. Donata had tried one more time to get out of it by volunteering to stay home and watch the kids, since even Erik and Enar, at seventeen, were considered to be adults and were therefore included in the summons to Assembly. But apparently there were a few of the elderly women whose task it was to babysit the children too young to attend, so she found herself with the others as they entered the central building on the town square. It was a simple one-story structure, much like the smaller version on the Torvalds’ compound that she’d practiced magic in—or tried to—that morning. A statue of Odin stood on one side of the doorway, with a matching statue of Freya on the other side. Iron torches held in the figures’ hands were lit to denote an Assembly was in session.
It appeared as though nearly the entire tiny town was in attendance, and the room seemed full to bursting with large, muscular bodies and loud conversation. Sparks flew toward the ceiling from the fire pit in the center like miniature shooting stars, and a circle of elders stood around it, separated from everyone else by a couple of yards and a silent dignity. Men, women, and teens packed the rest of the hall, leaning against the walls or sitting on benches, or standing in small groups, their predominantly blond heads together as they muttered and fretted.
The noise and scents and sheer physicality of so many people gathered in a relatively small area threatened to overwhelm Donata’s senses, and her psychic sensitivity forced her to raise her mental shields as much as she could. It didn’t help when people turned to stare at her as she entered the room. They could have been looking at the Torvalds as a whole, but somehow she doubted it. Magnus squeezed her hand in unspoken support and she raised her chin up high. She’d come up against much worse her first few weeks at the police academy, as one of the few women and even fewer Witches. She could handle a roomful of mildly antagonistic Shapechangers.
Astrid and Halvor went to join the inner circle of elders, and Magnus, Donata, Kari, Lars, and the twins took their places alongside a young couple who lived in the next compound over. A few minutes later, Halfrida stepped forward and briskly rapped against the floor a tall oak staff decorated with Norse runes picked out in gold paint. Somehow it sounded much louder than it should have, and as the sound echoed through the room, everyone fell quiet.
The Lawspeaker’s voice was calm and even, and carried to every corner of the meeting hall.
“You will have all heard what happened to Lora Jansen earlier today, and most of you are also aware that she is not the first to have suffered a serious injury during this year’s Ulf training. Injuries and even death are not unheard of—the testing is difficult and challenges the abilities and the will of even the best of us. That is its purpose. But what is happening this year is not normal, and after this latest incident, the elders have decided to consider suspending the training altogether until answers can be found.”
This announcement was followed by a huge uproar, so loud that dust floated down from the ceiling and Donata thought for a minute that the walls were actually shaking. No wonder the Ulfhednar constructed their buildings so solidly.
Halfrida thumped the staff down again. “Enough!” she bellowed. “We will have an orderly discussion, as is our way. Who wishes to speak?”
A huge man, almost as broad as he was tall, stepped forward and Halfrida handed the staff over to him. He thumped it once, in what Donata guessed was a symbolic gesture indicating that it was his turn to be heard.
“It has always been the custom of our people to hold the Ulf trials to determine the best of us. A few accidents and some unexplained odd occurrences are not reason enough to change thousands of years of tradition.” He returned the staff to Halfrida and stepped back into his spot.
An elderly woman with snow-white hair in two long braids came forward and grasped the staff with both gnarled hands. “Tradition is not reason enough to ignore the fact that something dangerous and unusual is happening. Is it worth risking the lives of our most promising young people over? What would it hurt to wait another year?”
There was more shouting, and Halfrida reclaimed the staff long enough to thump it loudly three times, then handed it off to Magnus’s father.
Halvor pounded the staff on the floor and then stood for a moment without saying anything. Donata couldn’t tell if he was gathering his thoughts or pausing for effect, but either way, by the time his voice boomed out, he had everyone’s attention.
“The Ulf ritual is an important part of who we are as a people. Naming those worthy few who pass the arduous testing process as Ulf every year not only shows our strength as a community but also demonstrates that strength to the other clans. When the elders met to discuss the possibility of canceling the testing, I voted against doing so. Not only does it go against centuries of tradition, but it sends a message of weakness to the boars, the wolves, and the rest. We
cannot afford to do that. I say we ask Odin, and if he does not send us a sign that he is in favor of canceling, we continue as we always have.”
“Ha!” said a man with a short red beard and a shaved head. Gold earrings ran along the edges of both his ears, and a tattoo of a growling bear decorated one arm. He reached out and practically snatched the staff away from Halvor. “Again, I say ha!”
Halvor rolled his eyes. “I take it you disagree, Bjorn?”
“Bjorn always disagrees with my father,” Magnus whispered to Donata. “If my father said the sky was blue, Bjorn would argue that it was really a strange shade of green.” He shook his head. “But he has a certain following.”
“Perhaps you have a vested interest in having the training proceed,” Bjorn suggested with a sly glance at Halvor. “After all, your own son has finally returned home to complete his Ulf testing, and there are some—not me, of course, but some among us—who predict that should the Bear clan win out over all others for another year, you yourself might be chosen to lead all the clans. Little wonder you want the trials to continue, no matter what the cost.”
Halvor growled and might have spoken, but the red-bearded man waggled the staff, as if to demonstrate that he was still in control. “What’s more, it is all well and good to propose that we leave it to Odin, but we all know that Odin has not sent us a sign of any kind in three long months and more.” Bjorn cast his gaze challengingly around the room. “Have any of you heard from our god in all that time? Has he answered a prayer? Responded to a ritual sacrifice made in his name? Sent a sign of his presence in any way? So much as whispered in the mind of those who follow him with such devotion?”
The room was silent, and many of the countenances in the space around Donata grew forlorn and downcast. One man wept quiet tears and was comforted by the woman standing next to him.
“Ha!” Bjorn said again. “Well and good it is to propose we leave it to Odin, but such a thing means nothing if the god has turned his face from us. As he most clearly has. And why would he do such a thing, you might ask? Because the Bear clan has not stayed true to their Ulfhednar ideals. Too much modern influence! Too many of our children choosing to ignore the Ulfhednar way, as if they were too good for the paths our people have followed for centuries.” His eyes cast around the room but clearly rested on Magnus longer than on anyone else.
“We need look no further than Halvor’s own son for an example. See, he brings his Witch whore to Assembly as if she were Ulfhednar instead of the outsider and spy for the Alliance Council we all know her to be. Little wonder our god refuses to speak to us, if this is the future we offer him. I say we cancel the Ulf trials until we are back in his good favor, even if that means losing our place as first among the clans. Perhaps Odin demands that as our sacrifice.” He thumped the staff one more time and then held it out defiantly in Halvor’s direction.
Instead, Magnus slipped from Donata’s side and lightly twitched the staff out of Bjorn’s hand. Donata held her breath and waited for violence. But Magnus’s voice, when he finally spoke, was casual and calm, although his words belied his tone.
“First of all, let me say that the next man who calls my beloved a whore will be carrying his teeth in a leather bag around his neck instead of in his mouth where they belong.” He flashed a dimpled smile and a wink toward Donata before turning his attention to the rest of the room. She smiled back, trying to pretend he didn’t make her heart flutter with such outrageous statements.
“Second of all, I think most of you know better than to believe my father would make any decision for our people based on some perceived benefit for himself or his family. His dedication to the welfare of all is one of the reasons why many have put forth his name as a possibility—one among many—to represent us. I myself would be proud to have him as my Chieftain, and I think many of you are aware that he and I often disagree, to put it mildly.”
Laughter floated out of the assembled crowd like spatters of raindrops, and even Bjorn stopped scowling briefly and hid a smile behind one rough-skinned hand. Halvor shrugged and nodded his head, a corner of his mouth crooked up in wry agreement.
“As for my fiancée”—Magnus gestured toward Donata, who held her head high and tried to look as dispassionate as possible—“she has taken time away from her life, her job, and her own family in order to try and help ours. I watched her spend hours channeling energy earlier in an attempt to help Lora to heal from her wounds.
“She has spent weeks seeking answers in the face of hostility and resentment, and never complained about the lack of gratitude from the ones she attempts to aid. I for one cannot believe that Odin would not approve of one so fierce and so dedicated to our cause. Together, we will get to the bottom of these incidents which threaten all that the Ulfhednar hold dear. I say we hold fast to our resolve. I also say that the choice should be made by those who must undergo the ordeals to become Ulf, and not by the elders or the community. It is we who take the risks, and we who should decide.”
He thumped the staff on the floor. “What say you, my fellow potential Ulf?”
Seven young Ulfhednar, six men and one woman, stepped forward from the crowd. Donata recognized Freddy and Jonah, as well as a couple of those she had interviewed about their spectral encounters. Then, to the shock of the crowd, Lora joined the rest of her fellows. She was pale and visibly shaky, supported on each side by two Ulfhednar who might have been relatives. A large back brace wrapped around her torso, and the bandage on her head was only slightly whiter than her face. But still she stood tall and took her place with the others, and raised her fist into the air with the rest.
Magnus nodded with satisfaction.
“We are the ones who take the risks,” he repeated. “And we have chosen, each and every one of us, to go forward. Will any among you say us no?”
The room was silent for a moment, then cheers rang out, echoing off of the wooden walls and the high ceiling. Heavy feet stamped approval on the floor, making the entire building quake and shudder. Cries of “Bear clan! Bear clan! Bear clan!” filled the space.
Magnus handed the staff back to Halfrida and quietly returned to Donata’s side. If she hadn’t been looking for it, Donata might have missed the tiny nod he exchanged with his father.
“Nicely done,” she said as they stepped outside into the blessed relief of the cooler air. People around them called good night to their neighbors and headed off in different directions.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Magnus said, a smile hovering around his full lips. “That was simply a spontaneous gesture of support in response to Bjorn’s insult.”
“Uh-huh,” Donata said as they headed back toward the compound. Erik and Enar walked down the road ahead of them, roughhousing with a couple of friends their own age, and Magnus’s parents followed behind, strolling more slowly as they chatted with the folks from next door. “So you’re telling me that Halvor didn’t purposely provoke Bjorn into making an unpopular stand, so that you could step forward and make a nice dramatic display with your fellow Ulf mates? Two of whom are out for the year, no matter what was decided.”
She shook her head. “Pulling poor Lora out of the hospital was a bit much, don’t you think? If she’d fallen on her face, it wouldn’t have done much to help your cause.”
Magnus put one arm companionably around her shoulders. “Lora was coming home anyway. We heal better in our own beds surrounded by our family and friends. She was the one who insisted on showing up to support the rest of us. She’s Ulf material for sure. Maybe more than I am, even.”
Donata sighed. “And the bit about publicly claiming me? Was that planned too?” If so, she had to admit it was well played. She suspected that the rest of the townspeople would be more likely to accept her now and cooperate with less resistance.
Magnus gave her an innocent look that didn’t impress her at all, and then swooped in for a kiss that made h
er forget what she’d been asking him. Which had been his intention, no doubt, but that didn’t make it any less effective. When he finally let her go and they started walking again, she said, “So where does all of this leave us, now that you’ve persuaded everyone to let the Ulf trials go on?”
He shrugged. “It leaves us right back where we started, ’Nata. With a lot of questions, very few clues, and way too much at stake.” He tugged on her braid playfully. “But I have faith in you.”
Well, crap. No pressure at all. Big hairy crap with fangs.
Chapter Thirteen
All the Ulf candidates were crowded into Lora’s reasonably spacious bedroom on the Saturday two days later, gathered together for a brainstorming session and visiting with their fallen comrade at the same time. Donata sat on a stool by Lora’s bed, one hand tucked under the other woman’s body as gently as possible near the worst of the broken bones in her back and the other placed lightly on her belly. Heat poured out of both hands and resonated with a vibration that was almost an audible hum. Lora lay there quietly and listened to the others talk, pale but still healing faster than any Human could have hoped for, even without Donata’s help.
“What now?” Jonah asked, a scowl darkening his otherwise attractive features. “We’ve convinced them to let us continue, but if we can’t figure out what the hell is going on, what’s to stop us all from ending up like Lora here?”
The woman in question raised her middle finger and waved it in his direction without bothering to open her eyes. There was a murmur of laughter at this, but the mood in general was unusually somber.
“Yeah,” said a guy named Gunnar, another tall blond with even longer hair than Magnus’s and a jagged scar that ran from his right ear down the line of his jaw. “Has your pet Witch come up with anything useful, or has she just been asking us annoying questions for the fun of it?”
Lora opened her blue eyes and stared up at Donata, whose hands were occupied with her healing work. Donata nodded at her, and the middle finger went up again.
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