“Sore loser!” Oluf yelled, his face turning as red as his beard. “The bears cheat. I was told you would have few if any new Ulf this year. The same with the wolves. You must be lying about the number who actually finished. Perhaps your son failed, along with his companions, and you simply don’t wish to admit it.”
Halvor growled, his berserker coming dangerously close to the surface. Oluf responded by preparing to unleash his own Shapechanger beast.
“Hold,” Halfrida said, moving out of the crowd. “Oluf, you said that someone told you the bears and wolves would not muster the numbers they needed this year. Who was it who gave you this information?”
Thorsen stared with piercing black eyes in the badger leader’s direction. “Yes, Oluf. Who was it who said there would be no new Ulf among some clans this year? I would be most interested in talking to this person.”
Donata noticed one man toward the back of the badger contingent trying to edge unobtrusively out of the circle of Ulfhednar. “Might that be him?” she asked loudly, pointing her hand in his direction. After a gesture from Oluf, a group of his own people herded the man up to the bonfire to stand before the Chieftain.
“I know you,” Thorsen said with a frown. “You are Arne, the Lawspeaker from Hagebak. Your town has been rivals with Gimle, among many others, for years. What would you know of their Ulf numbers?”
“I, uh, heard rumors,” Arne said, his beady eyes darting back and forth.
“More likely you’ve been spying on us,” one of the Wolf clan said, his fists curled at his side.
“It’s worse than that,” Halfrida said in a calm, clear tone that reached to the edges of the clearing. “Arne Arnesen of the badger clan, I accuse you of trickery and interference in our sacred traditions, leading to the injury and death of those from various other clans.”
Growls and hissing could be heard rising from the crowd. Thorsen, of course, showed no surprise. Halfrida had informed him as soon as the elders of Gimle knew the truth.
“Silence,” he roared. “Halfrida of the bears, of what crimes do you accuse Arne of the badgers?”
“One,” she said, raising a finger, “that he brought in a Witch to call the dead, and then used his own village’s priestess to coerce them into leaving Valhalla to haunt those who loved them, in the hope of sabotaging the training. And two”—a second finger joined the first—“that he made abundant sacrifices to the goddess Idunn to persuade her to distract Odin, so he would not hear the prayers and pleas for help from his people. All with the goal of ensuring that for once, the badgers would have the highest number of Ulf.”
Gasps went up from those to whom this was news. Those who already knew simply glared in Arne’s direction.
Arne glared back. “I have been unfairly passed over for years. I am known among my people for my strength and wisdom. I should have been Chieftain long ago. Deciding the leadership of an entire people based on an outmoded custom is ridiculous. The Ulfhednar need to move with the times instead of living in the past.”
Thorsen swung the massive staff in his hands without warning, knocking Arne to the ground. “This is not for you, or any one man, to decide. You should be ashamed, Arne Arnesen. You caused the injury and death of our people, simply to further your own ambitions. You not only interfered with the natural progression of the Ulf testing, you obstructed the communication between many in the clans and their god. You are not fit to rule an outhouse. And after today, you are no longer an Ulfhednar. You are banished.”
The staff hit the ground three times, making it official. Arne hauled himself painfully up off the dirt, his face pale. But he didn’t argue.
Donata took one step forward. “Before he leaves, I would very much appreciate the name of the Witch who helped him with this crime. I assure the Ulfhednar, that person will be made to take responsibility for his or her part of this abomination.”
Thorsen nodded his approval. He beckoned to Oluf, the badger leader. “This man is your responsibility. Get the information she needs, and then see that he never returns to our lands or our communities. Any other punishment I leave to your discretion.”
Oluf bowed his head. “The badgers are ashamed on his behalf, Chieftain. I myself am appalled that he did all this without my knowledge, and I believed his lies without evidence.” He glanced around at the others of his clan who clustered near him. “The badgers will not seek the office of Chieftain for the next ten years, as our atonement for Arne’s deeds.”
“Your forfeit is noted and accepted,” Thorsen said grimly. Donata suspected that he would have demanded something along those lines if the badger Lawspeaker hadn’t volunteered it. “And perhaps it is time to consider, as a people, whether or not this method of choosing a leader still works for us. Change comes slowly to the Ulfhednar, it is true, but there is nothing to be lost by having the conversation.”
The clearing was silent after this pronouncement, and all those present watched as Arne was hauled away by five large badgers to face whatever fate his Chieftain had in mind. It probably didn’t matter what that was—nothing could be worse than the sentence of banishment, forever forbidden to be with those he knew and loved. For an Ulfhednar, to be alone in the world with no clan was the worst punishment there was. Donata knew that from watching Magnus during all the years he’d struggled with his own outcast status.
For a moment, the atmosphere was tense and mournful, but then Thorsen rapped his staff on the ground one more time. “Ulfhednar! This is a celebration, not a wake! Here are your new Ulf, the strongest and the best among us.”
After that, he called out the names of each of the men and women who had passed the testing this year, greeting each one by name and tapping them lightly on the shoulder with the staff before handing them a goblet filled with mead. Each one drained the goblet and held it up to show the crowd, who roared their approval and stomped their feet on the ground. When Magnus took his turn, he raised his glass in Donata’s direction before drinking, and she had to dash a few tears from her eyes.
When each of the newest members of the elite Ulf contingent had been acknowledged, they rejoined their clans. Thorsen turned to the bears and said, “My year as Chieftain is over. Who do the bears choose to take my place and lead our people until this time next year?”
With one voice, the bears yelled Halvor’s name, and he walked proudly out to accept the staff from Thorsen’s hand. Next to Donata, Astrid wept with pride.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Donata and Magnus didn’t get a chance to talk until they had both congratulated his father, and Magnus had been greeted by what seemed to be most of the crowd in the meadow. When they finally had a moment to themselves, Magnus gathered her up into one of his huge hugs and kissed her soundly.
“I missed you too,” Donata said with a smile. “Aren’t you freezing in that outfit?”
“Not while you’re at my side,” he said gallantly. “Also, the mead helps. I’m glad you came.”
She laughed. “I am too. It was wonderful to see you finally achieve your goal, not to mention being here for Halvor’s big moment. I really like your dad, and he’ll make a great Chieftain. Besides, now I will have the name of a lawbreaking Witch to take back to the Council. That always makes Clayton Moore happy, and maybe he’ll forgive me for not bringing him evidence that your people are breaking the Compact.”
“Which we aren’t, of course,” Magnus said with wide, innocent eyes.
“Uh-huh. Anything you say.”
“Anything?” He waggled his thick eyebrows at her suggestively and she elbowed him in the side. As usual, all that did was hurt her elbow. It was like nudging a brick wall. You’d think she’d learn.
“For today, at least,” she said. “You know that I can’t stay, right? My life is back in the city.” She blinked rapidly. She’d rehearsed this speech all the way here, but now that it was time, she wasn’t sure if she could get the
words out past the lump in her throat.
He nodded, but she put her hand up when he would have spoken. She wanted to say her part first.
“I’m really pleased that everything worked out. We caught the bad guy, and your father is the new Chieftain. It’s all good. And I know that now that you’ve completed your Ulf training, you’ll be staying with your people.” She took a deep breath. “I won’t kid you—that part is hard. But I want you to be happy, no matter what that means.” She twisted the ring she still wore, wondering when he was going to ask for it back. After all, they didn’t need to fool anyone anymore.
Magnus grinned at her. “It means that it is a good thing that my father was made Chieftain after all, since my mother and sister will be too distracted by that to get angry with me when I go back to the city with you.”
“But . . .” Donata opened and closed her mouth a couple of times before she could form a coherent sentence. This was not part of the noble speech she’d rehearsed. “But you’re an Ulf now. You’re not banished anymore. You can stay home with your family.”
“I’m also free to come and see them anytime I want. But I told you when I left that I needed to finish the Ulf training so I could learn to control my inner berserker. I’ve done that, and now that I have, I intend to return to my own life. Might even start a private detective agency, helping out Paranormals and the occasional Human with a problem that falls within my particular skill set. I promise to be mostly law-abiding.”
Donata choked back a laugh. That “mostly” sounded like the Magnus she knew and loved. “You’re going back to your old life?” she repeated.
“Well, like I said, there will be a few changes. For one thing, I hope you’ll share it with me.”
She gazed up into his blue eyes that always reminded her of the oceans his Viking ancestors sailed upon.
“You don’t even know if the baby I’m carrying is yours,” she said in a quiet voice.
“I don’t care,” he said in a firm tone. “I love you, and I’ll love any child of yours, even if its father is an arrogant half-Dragon pain in the ass.”
Donata chuckled. “Well, then it is probably a good thing for the baby that, in fact, its father is an oversized Shapechanger pain in the ass instead, although for my sake, I hope it doesn’t manifest teeth and claws until after the birth.”
She might have been laughing, but inside, her heart felt as though it had grown wings. He loved her. He truly loved her. She knew Magnus Torvald, and he would never have said it if it wasn’t true. For the first time in a long time, she finally believed that everything was going to be okay. After all that had happened, it felt like a miracle.
Magnus looked at her for a moment as if she had handed him the moon on a silver plate. “It’s mine? You’re sure?”
“I’m sure,” she said. “I talked to my sister, and she told me that Witch mothers can check in on their unborn children. When I looked, I could clearly sense Ulfhednar energy. I’ve just been waiting for the right time to tell you.”
Magnus whooped and swung her around. “We’re going to have our very own hellion!” he said with glee.
Oh, crap.
Donata grinned up at him. Ah, what the heck. If anyone could handle a hellion, it was her and Magnus.
Things were really going to get interesting now.
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The crackle of the two-way radio barely impinged on Liam McClellan’s consciousness as he scanned the bushes on either side of his squad car for any sign of a missing seven-year-old girl. He’d been down this same narrow country road yesterday at dusk, but like the other searchers, he’d had to give up when darkness fell. Like the rest—volunteers from the nearby community and every cop who could be spared, whether on duty or off—he’d come back at dawn to pick up where he left off. Even though there was little hope of success, after six long days.
His stomach clenched with a combination of too much coffee, too little sleep, and the acid taste of failure. Liam McClellan took his job as sheriff very seriously. Clearwater may be a tiny county in the middle of nowhere, its population scattered between a few small towns and a rural countryside made up mostly of struggling farmers, overgrown wilderness, and white-tailed deer, but it was his tiny county, and the people in it were his to protect. Lately, it didn’t seem like he’d been doing a very good job.
Mary Elizabeth Shields had disappeared out of her own backyard. Her mother had turned her back for a moment, drawn by the flutter of a bright-hued bird. When she turned around, the girl had vanished. Such a thing would be alarming enough on its own, but Mary Elizabeth was the third child to go missing in the last four months. To a lawman, that meant only one thing: a human predator was stalking the children of Clearwater County.
There had been no trace of any of the missing children. No tire marks, no unexplained fingerprints, no lurking strangers seen at any of the places from which the children had disappeared. No clues at all for a tired and frustrated sheriff to follow. And this time it was personal; Mary Elizabeth’s mother was one of his deputies. A single mother who adored her only child, Belinda Shields was beside herself with grief and terror, making Liam even more discouraged over his inability to make any headway in the case.
A rabbit bounded out of a tangle of sumac, and Liam slowed to avoid hitting it, his tires sending up a spray of dusty gravel. In his rearview mirror, he thought he caught a glimpse of an old woman walking by the side of the road with a basket of herbs over one gnarled, skinny arm. But when he looked again, no one was there.
The gauzy fog of an early summer morning gave the deserted back road a surreal quality, which only heightened as he came around the bend to his destination to find a totally unexpected sight.
When he was out here last night, the wide curve of road that ended in a patch of meadow overlooking the Clearwater River had been empty. This morning, there was a shiny silver Airstream trailer parked in the middle of the crabgrass and wildflowers of the meadow, along with the large silver Chevy truck that had no doubt hauled it there. Liam blinked in surprise as he eased his squad car to a halt a few yards away. He didn’t know anyone in the area who had such a fancy, expensive rig, and he couldn’t imagine a stranger being able to navigate his way into the back-of-beyond corner on a bumpy tertiary road in the dark.
But clearly, someone had.
Swinging his long legs out of the driver’s side door, Liam thumbed the radio on and checked in with Nina in dispatch, hoping fervently she would tell him the girl had turned up, safe and sound.
No such luck.
“Do you know of anyone around here who owns an Airstream?” he asked her. “Any of the gang down at Bertie’s mention seeing one come through town?” Bertie’s was the local bakery/diner/gossip central. Nina considered it part of her job to swing by there on the way to work every morning and pick up muffins and chitchat to share with the rest of the sheriff’s department.
“A what?” Nina asked. He could hear her typing on her keyboard in the background. The woman was seventy years old and could still multitask with the best of them. The county board kept pressuring him to make her retire, but that was never going to happen. At least, not as long as he still had a job.
“It’s a big fancy silver RV trailer,” he explained. “I found one sitting right smack-dab in the middle of Miller’s Meadow when I got here just now.”
“Really?” She sounded dubious. “In Miller’s Meadow? How the heck did it get there?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Liam said, scratching his head. He made a mental note to get his hair cut; it kept flopping into his eyes and annoying him. It seemed like a trim was never enough of a priority to make it to the top of his overburdened to-do list. “Drove here, I guess, although I wouldn’t want to haul a big vehicle down this road if I didn’t have to.”
He told her to hang on for a minute, then walked around and checked the license plate on the truck. Returning to the car, he read off the numbers. “California plates, so someone is a long way from home. Hard for me to imagine anyone driving all that distance to upstate New York in order to park out here at the ass end of nowhere, but I suppose we’ve had tourists do stranger things.”
“Huh,” was Nina’s only response. Clearwater County didn’t get much in the way of tourism. A few folks staying at the bed-and-breakfast in West Dunville, which had both a tiny winery and an antiques shop, as well as an old mill that housed a surprisingly good restaurant. Campers during the summer who used the small state park outside of Dunville proper. Other than that, the only strange faces you saw were those of people driving through on their way to someplace more interesting.
More tapping as Nina typed in the information he’d given her. “Huh,” she said again. “There’s nothing there, Sheriff.”
“No wants and warrants, you mean?” He hadn’t really expected any, not with an Airstream. But it would have been nice if the gods of law enforcement suddenly decided to smile on him and just hand over a suspect. Preferably one who still had all the children alive and well and eating cookies inside a conveniently located trailer. He sighed. There was no way he was going to be that lucky.
“No anything,” Nina said slowly. “There’s nothing in the system for that plate number at all. And I can’t find any record of a permit being issued for someone to use the spot. That’s county property, so there should be one if our visitor went through proper channels and didn’t simply park there because he got tired.”
Liam felt his pulse pick up. “Probably a computer error. Why don’t you go ahead and check it again. I’ll get the inspection number off the windshield for you too; that should turn up something.” He grabbed his high-brimmed hat from the passenger seat, setting his face into “official business” lines. “I think it’s time to wake up the owner and get some answers.”
Veiled Enchantments Page 24