Chapter Twenty-five
The Torvalds came home late and were unusually subdued. There was very little conversation and even the children were quiet and well-behaved. Donata felt as though she’d wandered into the wrong house by mistake.
She and Magnus went to bed at the same time, but he just gave her a brief hug at her door and turned away to go into his own room without a word. She didn’t blame him. It was hard enough to bury a friend. She couldn’t imagine how hard it was to bury one you’d had to kill with your own hands. She suspected he’d be a long time recovering from that.
In the morning, he and Halvor and the twins all went outside to work on some project that involved a lot of hammering and banging and general destruction. She supposed it was probably therapeutic. Kari stayed in the house and helped her mother clean the place from top to bottom, but Donata caught her casting wistful glances out the window at the mayhem being created in the backyard.
It was all pretty calm, backyard chaos aside, except at one point when the ground shook briefly, rattling the dishes in the cupboard and making a couple of paintings on the wall suddenly hang crooked.
“Was that an earthquake?” Kari asked, slightly wide-eyed. “I didn’t think there was a fault line anywhere near here.”
Astrid shrugged. “If it was, it was only a little one. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.”
Donata wasn’t so sure, but she’d been meaning to deal with it anyway, so after lunch she put on her coat and a borrowed scarf and went for a walk in the woods. It wasn’t even the full moon yet, but she suspected someone was getting impatient. That was okay—she was kind of running out of patience herself.
The first few snowflakes drifted down to cover her path through the crinkling leaves, a warning sign that fall was on its way out and winter coming in. She hoped to be back home before that happened in any major way. The prospect of winter in Maine was not appealing to a born-and-bred city girl, although she had to admit that the way the snow fell through the air was pretty, in a chilly kind of manner.
She walked for a while, heading back to the last place she’d seen West in the woods. She assumed he could find her wherever she was, but it seemed like a place to start. And in fact, when she got to the small clearing, he was standing there as if he had all the time in the world. Which perhaps he did. If he didn’t force her to kill him.
“Good afternoon,” she said politely. It never hurt to be polite to a being who could create a tornado out of thin air.
“Good afternoon,” he said, cocking his head. “I gather you were looking for me. I hope that means you have finally come to your senses and decided to tell me where your baby’s father is.”
“I’ve come to tell you that I know for certain that Anton is not the baby’s father,” she said. “Although I suspect you knew that already.”
West stared at her, probably trying to decide if she was bluffing.
“Witches can sense their unborn children,” she said. “Mine doesn’t have the energy of a Major Anemoi. What you told me about being able to create offspring without physical union—that’s not possible, is it?”
He sighed. “It is for us. I had some hope it might be the case when a Witch was involved, although I admit, I did not think it was likely.” For a moment, he looked almost wistful, if such a thing was possible for a being as removed from normal existence as a giant sequoia was from a pine seedling. “My race is dying. We are desperate for a solution. Can you blame me for hoping?”
Of course, then he had to ruin it by adding, “Besides, we are a superior species. Any Witch should be honored to carry a child for us.”
“Not this Witch,” Donata said. “Nor, for that matter, any of the ones who died in the attempt, I imagine. But I’ve come to offer you what I can toward that glimmer of hope.”
West gave her a disdainful look. “Whatever half-breed child you carry, it cannot help us. Are you volunteering to try again once you have birthed this one?”
“Hell, no,” Donata said with feeling. “I mean, sorry, but no. However, I do have a compromise to propose.”
“Yes?”
“If you promise to go away and stop bothering me—which includes not threatening people I care about—I will donate some of my eggs, which come from the family line you think is your best possibility for a viable embryo. My sister is a healer Witch and a midwife, and I am certain I could get her to help if you can find a Witch who is willing to try and carry the child, knowing all the risks.” She emphasized that last part.
“If you are right about my great-great-great-great-grandmother’s genetics being the solution to your problem, this is your best chance of succeeding. Anton once told me that he thought modern advances in medicine might make all the difference, and hopefully he was correct. And it is the best I can offer you. Take it or leave it, your choice.”
West seemed to hesitate. “But what about Anton? Why won’t you tell me where he is?”
“Because I don’t know,” she said. In a way it was true. She had no idea what the Major Anemoi version of an afterlife was like, if they had one at all. Given their arrogance, she somehow doubted it.
“You must know,” West said. “He disappeared while he was dealing with you and that half-Dragon, Peter.”
Donata crossed her arms. “Fine then. Have it your way. In that case, I killed him. And what’s more, I am perfectly willing to do the same to you if you don’t accept my terms.”
West wrinkled his brow. “You are joking. It isn’t possible for a mere Witch to kill a Major Anemoi. People worshipped us as gods for centuries. We have the powers of nature at our command.”
“Well, I’m not hiding him in my purse,” Donata said. “Pick whichever answer you prefer. But either way, I can’t give him back to you. I’ve told you what I can give you. Do you want it or not?”
For the first time since she’d met him, the Major Anemoi seemed uncertain. Finally, he nodded and reached into his pocket. Donata held her breath, but of course, one such as him wouldn’t need a weapon to hurt her if he decided to do so. He was a weapon.
“Here is a number you can reach me at,” he said, handing her a card. “I will get things arranged. Contact me in two months’ time. I will not trouble you before then.”
“Or after,” Donata said.
“Or after,” he agreed. “As long as you keep your part of the bargain.” He turned and walked away without another word.
Donata wasn’t sure if she had just made a deal with the devil, but at least she no longer had to worry about some natural disaster sweeping down on Gimle and its inhabitants, and for now that would have to be enough.
It was hard to feel sorry for a race as arrogant and merciless as the Major Anemoi, but Donata supposed she did anyway. It must be difficult to feel so superior and yet know your people are dying out and there is nothing you can do about it. Of course, their having dispatched Anton in his physical manifestation to gain her trust, so he could send her the herb-induced psychic dreams that would prepare her to be wooed and then impregnated without knowing his true identity—that made it a little tougher.
Walking back to the compound, remembering her experience with Anton, Donata thought about the spell she had used to prevent the odd dreams that, at the time, she had no idea were coming from him. It was one of the spells from her great-great-great-great-grandmother’s Book of Shadows, which had been passed down through the women in her family. A spark of a possibility sprang into her mind. It was a long shot and would mean another trip into town to call her great-aunt Tatiana and ask for a favor, but it might give her a way to finally speak to one of the Ulfhednar’s ghosts. At the very least, it was worth a try.
The mess of wood in the backyard had transformed itself into a playhouse for the kids by the time she got back. The hellions were running in and out of the miniature house screaming their joy, and Magnus was meticulously painting the shutters
black, to match the larger ones on the compound. Donata picked up a brush and joined him, and they painted in companionable silence for a few minutes.
“Where is everyone else?” she asked eventually.
“My father took the twins out hunting,” Magnus said. “Kari and her husband went over to the neighbors, supposedly to return some tools we borrowed, but I suspect they really just wanted a break from the yelling.” He nodded his head in the hellions’ direction. They were currently chasing each other around and around the outside of the playhouse and showing no signs of running out of energy. Or lung power.
“I sure hope my baby isn’t that loud,” Donata said in as casual a tone as she could manage. “I don’t think I could take it. And I’m pretty sure that Grimalkin would start leaving hair balls in my bed in retaliation.”
Magnus laughed, not looking at her. “I suspect Grimalkin will adjust before you do. You always did like things quiet. I’m amazed you’ve been able to stand being around my family this long. We’re not a restful bunch. No wonder you keep taking long walks.”
“Yeah, but you grow on a person. And as it happens, this particular walk had a purpose. I took care of one of our issues while you were banging on nails.”
Astrid came to the back door with a plate of cookies and waved at them. The hellions changed course and raced off in her direction.
“What kind of cookies do you suppose those are?” Donata asked.
“Never mind the cookies. What issue did you take care of while I wasn’t paying attention?”
“I settled things with the Major Anemoi,” Donata said. “At least for now.”
“You what?” Magnus dropped the brush on his foot. “Damn.” He knelt down to pick it up. “Are you crazy? You went to see West on your own? What if he’d tried to attack you like Anton did?”
Donata shrugged. “Then I would have done as you suggested and killed him.” She slid the knife out of her sleeve to show him, then put it back. “Thankfully, it didn’t come to that.” She told him about the deal she’d made, and he nodded with reluctant respect.
“You’re sure you’re okay with that?” he asked. “If they can actually make it work, then someday there would be Witch-Anemoi hybrids running around with your DNA. Not to mention that you’d be helping to save a race that tried to murder Peter and force themselves on you. That’s a pretty big gift, under the circumstances.”
She sighed. “I can’t blame a whole race for what Anton did, and I can’t be sure that they approved his actions. Although it wouldn’t surprise me. Besides, not only would I be helping to save an entire race from extinction, but by mixing their blood with that of Witches, they would not only probably be diluting their power but also taking one step closer to becoming like us mere mortals. Maybe then they’d be less likely to bring down natural disasters on the rest of us.”
Magnus gazed at her with admiration. “You’re a sneaky woman, Donata Santori. I like that about you.”
She went back to painting, although she gave him a crooked grin while she did it. “So glad you approve. I also may have had an idea for how I can talk to one of your ghosts without being able to call on my own magic.”
He raised an eyebrow, touching up the shutter he’d been working on before she got there. Meticulous, as always. “Do tell.”
“When Anton was sending me those odd dreams, I used a variant on a spell that created a dreamcatcher to ‘capture’ the dreams. After I met with West, it occurred to me that I could use that same basic technique to capture a ghost. Temporarily, of course. I’ll have to go into Masonville and call my aunt, and ask her to actually create the dreamcatcher and set the spell on it, but then—in theory—I should be able to activate it without using much magic at all.” She gave him a wry look. “Of course, it’s only a theory until I actually make it work, but it’s worth a try.”
“It won’t hurt the ghost, will it?” Magnus said, his handsome face etched with concern.
She shook her head. “No, not at all. But it will mean I’ll have to stay another few days, at least, long enough for my great-aunt to create the thing and send it to me and then for me to see if it works. Would that be okay, do you think? If we’re lucky, I’ll get a clue that will finally tell us who is behind all this. But I don’t want to overstay my welcome. I’ve already been here for over a month.”
“My family likes you, ’Nata. Even Kari, believe it or not. You’re welcome to stay as long as you want.” His eyes strayed to her belly. “Will you be going back to work once you’ve attempted this experiment?”
Donata’s heart hurt to see him trying so hard not to pressure her to stay. He’d made his proposal and then respected her need to figure things out for herself. She knew his pride wouldn’t allow him to push her to say yes, no matter how much he might want her to, at least for the sake of the baby. She just wished it was for the sake of her too.
She thought about telling him what she’d learned about the identity of the baby’s father, but chickened out. She’d wait until they’d found the answer to who was sending the ghosts, and maybe she’d tell him then. She knew it was lousy to force him to wait, but she still had some decisions to make and a lot of thinking to do.
“In some capacity, probably,” she said. “I talked to my sister, the nurse, and she told me that Witches whose powers are affected by pregnancy get them back eventually, but it will likely be a couple of months before my magic is dependable again.”
“Is that going to get you in trouble with your boss?” he asked.
“No, thankfully. I called him after I talked to Lucia, and he said I should take however long I need.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m pretty sure he was more amused than angry. It’s always so nice when your predicament can provide humor for others.”
Magnus snorted. He’d heard plenty of her stories about the Chief.
Then he put down his paintbrush and bit his lip. “In that case, could I ask you a favor?”
Presumably he meant something beyond putting her life on hold to come solve his ghost problem. He hadn’t seemed at all shy about asking for that, so it was hard to imagine what he could be planning to request that gave him that (rather endearing) bashful look.
“You can always ask,” Donata said cautiously.
“Obviously, if we can figure out the answer to who called in the ghosts and blocked our access to Odin, it would be great to be able to tell all the elders when the clans meet up at the winter solstice. But even if there is nothing to report, I’d love to have you there with me when I am officially named an Ulf. It’s kind of a special ceremony, and it would mean a lot to me if you were there.” If she hadn’t known better, she would have said he was holding his breath.
“The winter solstice, that’s on December twenty-first, right?” She did some mental calculations. “That’s only about three and a half weeks from now. If I end up deciding to go home, I could probably come back for it. You’re sure that the other Ulfhednar wouldn’t mind a Witch being at their sacred ritual?”
“They’ll just have to suck it up. I get to invite whomever I like, and I’d really like to have you there, ’Nata,” Magnus said. He gave her a big hug. “By the way, you have black paint on your nose.”
Donata sighed again. If romance was dead, Ulfhednar men had probably killed it.
Chapter Twenty-six
A week later, Donata was feeling more than a little frustrated. She’d called her great-aunt and explained what she needed, and by the following Thursday, a large dreamcatcher with the enchantment already attached arrived in Gimle. According to Tatiana, all Donata had to do to activate it was say the spell. The older Witch was fairly certain that this basic and minor magical task shouldn’t be affected by the baby’s disturbance of Donata’s powers.
After two days of trying, Donata wasn’t so sure. She hadn’t seen or felt any spectral activity at all. By Saturday morning, though, it occurred to her that
she might be going about the entire thing the wrong way. The previous sightings had all been associated with one of the Ulf candidates who had a connection with that particular ghost. Now that each of them was wearing Odin’s protective amulet, perhaps there were simply no ghosts around to be caught.
So she’d asked Magnus to join her in the small building she’d used for her previous magical work, and had him take off the charmed rune stone and leave it outside the door. It was a risk, but at least this time he would be prepared and wouldn’t be a hundred feet up a cliff or in a tree. And frankly, it was the only thing left she could think of to try. Magnus, of course, was perfectly willing. He wanted to solve this mystery even more than she did.
Donata didn’t bother to create a protective circle. For one thing, she was pretty sure she couldn’t do it. For another, none of the ghosts had seemed malicious—it was simply the surprise of their unexpected appearances that had caused the accidents. She hoped like hell she wasn’t making a serious miscalculation, but she had the means to get rid of any unwanted spirit quickly, if she didn’t mind destroying their only tool before they got the answers they needed.
She stood in front of the dreamcatcher, which Magnus had hung from a hook on the ceiling. Tatiana had gone all out. The outer edge was woven out of grapevines and was almost two feet across. Iridescent peacock feathers hung down from the bottom, along with matching purple, blue, and green ribbons. The webbing strung across the middle was thin leather dyed in the same colors.
They’d purposely left the room fairly dim, not lighting any torches, so that it would be easier to make out any spirits who appeared. In the gloom, Donata could see a slight glow emanating from the dreamcatcher, a sign of the magical energy her great-aunt had imbued within it.
Magnus was a couple of steps away, off to her left, when she said the spell, praying that she’d figured out how to make the dreamcatcher work as she’d intended. If this didn’t succeed, they’d be back at square one.
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