“I’m sorry. I’m just not hungry.”
She went out into the herb garden, standing in the wind and the clean salt air. The water was steel grey and choppy, speckled with white caps and attended by seabirds. The house and the hill on which it stood felt timeless, as if she were in a pocket of unreality that left her disconnected from everything and everyone she had ever known. A raven flew down and landed on the fence, watching her with bright, intelligent eyes. It was joined by a second raven, and the two of them regarded her closely. She looked back at them.
“Are you hungry?” she asked the birds. The first raven tilted its head as if it was considering the question. “Let me see if Ingrid knows what to feed you.”
She turned to go back inside, and the birds flew away, taking to the air in unison. They were out of sight before she could even process that they’d gone.
Ingrid came out of the house and leaned against the doorjamb. “Hugin and Munin,” she said. “They are the companions of Odin.”
Nika had heard of the myth. Hugin and Munin were Odin’s eyes and ears in Midgard, the world of men, and each day they gathered information that they gave to their god each night. She wondered what they would be telling Odin about her.
***
Days passed.
His body was a riot of pain. His unknown torturer returned each day to bestow one drop of dreyri upon his tongue, but it was not enough to heal him or to address the horrid pain that still rolled in his midsection. The bullet was still there, deep inside of him, and when he was quiet and still, he could swear he felt it spinning.
His broken bones prevented him from moving, and he was gripped by silver sickness. He was still blindfolded and bound, still held captive by people he never saw. He was giving up hope that he would escape this place.
The door to his lonely prison opened, and the click of high heels announced the woman’s return. She walked right up to him, her feet stopping just shy of his head.
“Thorvald,” she said. “Are you awake?”
He managed to answer weakly. “Yes.”
“My master has a gift for you.”
Erik was almost afraid to ask. “A gift?”
Abruptly, she pulled the blindfold from his head, and he blinked in the sudden brightness. There were electric lights blazing down from the ceiling. He was lying on a gray concrete floor that was bounded by four gray concrete walls. The door was iron and heavily reinforced, with a spinning wheel in the center like the opening of a vault.
Before him, a tall blonde woman was standing, her black patent stiletto heels nearly touching his face. She was wearing a business suit, which surprised him. He had been expecting something more military. He looked up at her. He did not recognize her face.
“Bring her in.”
Two guards dragged in a struggling woman with scarlet hair. For a breathless moment, he thought that they had captured Nika. They flung her down onto the floor beside him. The woman in the suit pressed her foot against the prone woman’s back, leaning on her and forcing her to stay on the ground. The guards came forward and held her down, as well. She began to weep.
“Do you want the pain to stop, Thorvald?” She waited for him to answer, but when he did not, she continued. “You only need to feed from her.”
He tried to turn his head away. As weakened as he was, and as powerfully as his thirst was howling inside of him, he would not be able to stop himself from killing her.
The woman in heels leaned down and grabbed Erik’s jaw, turning his face back toward her. She growled at him. “Such pretty scruples. Always choosing the humans before your own kind,” she spat in his face. She turned to the guards. “Cut her.”
The woman shrieked. “No!”
Her objections were useless. One of the guards produced a knife and cut a notch into the side of her neck, bringing blood bubbling to the surface. It was a serious wound but not a fatal one, and she howled.
The scent of her blood made Erik’s stomach spasm, and he could feel the green Draugr lights ignite inside his eyes. His teeth, which had already been extended because of his pain, grew even longer. He needed to feed.
They pulled the woman closer to him, so close that he could smell the salt in her tears. She was begging for mercy, but he heard none of her words. Her fear was intoxicating, a reminder of his mortal days when power was at his beck and call and came on the backs of the frightened.
He tried to move closer to her, but the pain from his injuries stilled the motion before it began. He winced, but the vampire within him would not be denied. Over the anguished protest of his broken body, he inched closer to her, dragging himself along the floor.
The woman looked at him with terror in her brown eyes. She was like a cow at a sacrifice, seeing her doom and unable to prevent it. No longer able to think of anything but the blood, he attacked. His fangs sank into the soft flesh of her neck, his mouth wrapped around the bleeding wound the guard had opened. He drank greedily, swallow after swallow, frustrated by the manacles that prevented him from pulled her closer to him.
He drank until there was nothing left to take. The guards pulled the woman’s dead body away, and the woman in the suit smiled down at him triumphantly.
“Where are your scruples now, Huntsman?”
They dropped the woman’s corpse in the corner and left him to struggle with his shame.
Chapter Sixteen
Nika sat cross-legged in the garden, facing Ingrid with a white cloth on the ground between them. On the cloth was a set of runes, carved from a single oak branch, the symbols burned into the wood. After five days and nights of constant tutelage, she was about to attempt magic for the first time.
Ingrid nodded to her. “Cast away.”
She held her hands out over the wooden pieces and concentrated. A pulse of energy shot from her palms and scattered the runes in all directions.
“Try to control it,” Ingrid coached, putting the runes back where they’d started. “Keep the flow of your energy constant.”
Nika took a deep breath and tried again. This time, the power seeped slowly out of her palms, creeping down to encompass the runes with a barely-visible shimmer. The wooden pieces began to vibrate, and the runes inscribed upon them began to glow a soft white.
“Good,” her teacher approved. “Now cast.”
She focused her mind on the question she was supposed to ask, but another question rose to the fore instead. Where is Erik?
The glowing runes sorted themselves until only three remained in the center of the cloth. Nika read the symbols. “Hagalaz reversed. Pain and loss, suffering and sickness. Nauthiz. Recognizing your fate. Endurance and survival.” She took a deep breath. “And Algiz reversed. Consumption by divine forces and loss of a divine connection.”
“A dire reading, to be sure,” Ingrid said quietly. “I am sorry for your Huntsman’s suffering, but this is not about him. You must clear your mind if you are to face Loki and survive. This constant worry about Thorvald will be your undoing.”
“I have two more days,” she whispered.
“You have only two more days. There is little time to prepare.” She put the runes back in their original positions. “Now… try again. Ask what I told you to ask.”
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. How can I protect myself against Loki?
Again, the power poured out of her soul and through her hands, and again the runes glowed and sorted themselves. She looked to see what message they gave.
“Kenaz. The power of light. Revelation and creativity. Transformation and the use of power. Perthro. Precognition and knowing your own fate. Initiation and secret matters. Algiz. Protection, or a shield. A higher connection with the gods.” She looked up at Ingrid, her eyes intense. “I think I know what shield it’s talking about.”
***
Erik sat on the cold concrete floor with one knee bent and his other leg extended out in front of him. His hands were still bound behind his back, forcing him to slouch against the wall. His
bones had finally healed, fueled by the blood and the life he had taken, and the relief from that pain had allowed him to clear his mind somewhat. The silver bullet still burned inside his body. The blood had healed the wound around it so that he no longer bled, but the toxic pellet was still encapsulated in his flesh, still flooding his system with poison.
The electric lights continued to glare down on him and the body of his victim, which was still lying across the room like an oversized rag doll. He could smell the first tainted whiff of decay coming from the corpse.
He had been staring at the body for hours, too sick to feel much of anything. He supposed that his captors had left her there to try to demoralize him, but he had seen too much of death and had killed too many times to be so affected by a single dead woman. They had underestimated him, and he intended to use that to his advantage.
He pushed himself up to his feet. His head swam dangerously, and he fell back against the wall for support. He had to get that bullet out. It was killing him.
He looked around the room, but it was utterly featureless. There was nothing he could use as a weapon or as a tool. It was frustrating.
He bent brought his manacled hands down, forcing them under his hips so that he was bent double. With some difficulty, he managed to step first one foot, then the other through the circle his bound wrists created. His balance failed him and he toppled onto the floor, landing hard. Perversely, the fall helped him gain the last inch of clearance that he needed, and he brought his hands up to the front of his body.
He pressed one of his palms to his abdomen, feeling the silver bullet lodged deep beneath his hand. He extended his claws, letting his Draugr nature take the forefront. He clenched his teeth, steeled himself to the task and began to dig.
The pain was excruciating. He groaned in anguish as he thrust his fingers into his own stomach, ripping through the flesh in search of the bullet. Blood poured out of his self-inflicted wound, forming a spreading pool on the concrete floor. He nearly lost consciousness from the intensity of the agony. Finally, his fingers found the offensive object, and he pulled the bullet out of his body. As soon as it was freed, he collapsed.
***
Night was falling over the little house on the hill. Nika no longer felt any of the augmentation that the dreyri had given her, and its absence was a source of both sorrow and relief. She sat on the rug in front of Ingrid’s hearth, the ancient tome in her hands. Ingrid sat beside her.
“Feel with your spirit, not with your hands,” she instructed. “You have held this book before. You have read this book before. Remember.”
Nika closed her eyes and concentrated. The book felt warm against her skin and almost welcoming.
“Go within,” Ingrid coached. “Go back into the lives you led before.”
She felt sleepy and awake at the same time, as if her mind was wandering but she was exquisitely aware of every detail that she saw. She saw sailing ships and wood fires. She heard the babble of voices in a distant marketplace. She saw Erik.
“Yes,” her teacher said. “He has known you many times.”
“How do you know what I’m seeing?”
“I am Frigg, child. I see all. Now concentrate.”
She saw the book she was holding, but in her mind’s eye, it was sitting on a shelf, open to the image of the burning men. She saw hands - her hands - reaching out to turn the page. She looked at the words written on the vellum sheet, the letters carefully scribed. Between the words, in the open spaces between and within the letters, she could see pinpricks of light shimmering.
“Can you read it?” Ingrid asked.
She opened her mouth to answer, but no sound came out. She was lost in the vision. In the physical world, her hands opened the book to the page that she saw in her mind. The vellum was twinkling with a thousand tiny stars.
Nika looked closer. The little glowing specks were not specks at all. They were runes. They glimmered and shone, and as she watched, they shifted like the engraving on the Rune Sword until words were formed.
Destiny cannot be cheated.
She put her hand on the page, and the glowing runes sparked like lightning, fingers of energy racing up her arm and into her chest. She gasped as the light plunged into her body. It was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time, like plunging down the steepest hill on a roller coaster. Her entire body tingled with the messy, uncontainable feeling.
The runes on the page vanished, and they appeared on her skin, dancing like fireflies. They moved up from her hand to her arm, shining as they went, forming and breaking apart and forming again. The words destiny and transformation appeared and disappeared as the glowing runes raced up toward her heart. Like the first tendrils of energy had done, they plunged into the very center of her soul.
She opened her eyes, and they were glowing with an unearthly golden light. The scent of apples filled the tiny house, and Ingrid smiled broadly.
“Ithunn,” she said with a smile. “Welcome back.”
The goddess spoke in Old Norse, her voice musical and terrifying at the same time. “Why have you called me forth?”
“Loki has returned to Sweden,” Ingrid said. “He brings the Nøkken.”
Nika’s nose wrinkled, though the expression was Ithuun's own. “Why the Nøkken? Have they not been destroyed?”
Ingrid’s eyes began to glow a pale violet as the goddess within her fully woke, and Frigg spoke through her. “They still exist, as they always have, but now they do not stay to the bogs and lakes. They walk freely among mankind, working their mischief.”
Nika’s hand stroked the page of the book on her lap. “This is Odin’s book.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“The Veithimathr are almost destroyed. The last Huntsman, the only one who can defeat Loki, is captured and may be dying… or dead.”
Nika’s head shook sharply. “No. Not dead.” She turned slightly, as if she were listening to something. “Bragi is awakened.”
“His vessel has encountered yours.”
“We cannot get involved in this, sister. We sacrificed our right to act except in self-preservation when we took these vessels.” She stroked the book again. “Otherwise, it would have been too easy for us all to proclaim ourselves kings and queens over all mankind.”
“Is it not self-protection, my sister, to prevent Loki from causing mischief? I fear Loki has some plan.”
Her voice was heavy with disapproval. “Loki always has a plan, and if he is destroying the Huntsmen, then he is no doubt preparing to attack humanity.”
“There are more humans now than ever before,”Frigg told her. “If we – if our Draugr and Valtaeigr hosts – are exposed, then they will destroy us. We are as nothing before the weapons and science that mankind has created. Our vessels are still fragile.”
Nika put her hands to her face, covering her glowing eyes. She felt the other personality within her, the goddess who hid inside her soul, and every part of her rebelled. She would not be controlled. “Stop it,” Nika whispered, pushing against the powerful soul that was Ithunn. “Let go.”
Frigg looked on through Ingrid’s eyes, surprised. “Do not resist her, child. She needs to come to the forefront. Let her work.”
“No!” Nika shoved, hard, with all of her psychic energy, pushing Ithunn back into the back of her mind where she belonged. The goddess did not resist, and Nika had the impression of a smile of amusement on Ithunn’s incorporeal face. “This is my life, and I will do what needs to be done.”
Ingrid’s eyes burned brighter. “You do not know how. You are not a Rune Master, and only Rune Masters can contain Loki.”
Nika looked up into her teacher’s face, and she said, “I will learn.”
The goddess in the old woman laughed at her, but then fell silent, considering. “Yes… perhaps you can. You are not fully goddess, not fully Valtaeigr, no fully Draugr. You are a mix of all three things.”
Ithunn’s voice spoke in both of their heads. They wi
ll not expect her. She can combine all three. It will make her powerful.
Frigg looked at Nika, but spoke to Ithunn. “You are speaking of a true melding. Do you really intend to lose yourself forever that way? Do you really mean to subjugate yourself to this human soul?”
Ithunn sounded contemplative when she spoke again. It may be that the time has passed for the gods. If the humans have become as powerful as you say, and if we have all been only sleeping, then the time of humans it upon us. Ragnarök cannot be far behind. She shuddered, and Nika’s body shook. I would avoid seeing that calamity. I would avoid seeing the end of all things.
“Vidar can still be awakened and brought out of the Draugr,” Frigg suggested.
Vidar, son of Odin, is destined to kill Fenrir, not Loki, Ithunn objected. That honor falls to Heimdallr.
“Heimdallr is deceased,” Frigg told her. “The Veithimathr who carried him, Gunnar, has been slain and his soul has not yet been reborn.”
Nika took a deep breath. “Stop.” She pressed her hands against the book and looked down. The runes and the words suddenly took on meaning to her, and she realized that she could read the writing. “It’s not time for Ragnarök yet. It’s just time to stop Loki from… whatever he’s doing. And to do that, we need Vidar. And to do that, we need to find Erik.” She fixed Ingrid, and the goddess inside her, with a hard look. “You said that you could find him. Do it. Now.”
Chapter Seventeen
Erik opened his eyes slowly. He was lying in the pool of blood had created, but it was dry now, telling him that time had passed in increments of hours rather than minutes. The silver bullet was on the floor beside his manacled, gore-stained hand, no longer capable of harming him. The terrible pain in his midsection was gone, and though he was weak from lack of blood and the urge to feed, he felt like himself again.
He went to the door and examined it closely, looking for a way that he could force it open. The hinges were on the other side, and there was no knob or handle that he could see or reach. The steel was reinforced with more metal that was welded into place. At his best, and with a full day of feeding behind him, he might have been able to force that door, but not today.
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