"I can't say I'm surprised with her refusal." He made the matter-of-fact observation with an odd fatalism.
On the surface, Jake appeared cool and detached, but Victoria detected the deadly fury building beneath the surface. She looked up and met his chocolate-brown eyes, seeing the son instead of the father.
Her heart held an imperative—Daniel. She must save him.
Without Jake, she didn't know how to go about locating or freeing Daniel's soul from an eternity of torment. Freya's refusal to help when Victoria needed her goddess most struck her as a grave and capricious injustice. It was a betrayal, and her heart railed against the cruelty. And her own bitter anger shocked Victoria to her very soul.
Quicksilver rage rushed through her. Cold ruthlessness took the place of her disappointment and hurt over Freya's indifference. At her core, Victoria possessed a sense of practicality that overrode all else. If her goddess refused to help, then she'd find some other way to accomplish the resurrection. She needed divine power to bring a man back from the dead. Ultimately, the source of the blessing didn't matter. Any god would do in a pinch.
Reaching out, she seized Jake's hand. She grabbed for the raw well of infinite capacity and took what she required. A startled cry escaped him, genuine surprise at her audacity. He offered no resistance, and the power flowed. The nova lit her entire soul, eradicating every shadow so she stood at the center of the sun. She wasn't simply connected to a god—she was a goddess.
For a full minute, she gloried in the ecstasy, simply existing, until she remembered her mission. With just a flicker of her hand, she healed all of the damage to the hunter's body. Mission accomplished, she asserted her will and released his hand. It required every last iota of discipline she possessed, but she severed the spiritual connection and fell into the darkness of mortality.
CHAPTER NINE
Fólkvangr, Freya's hall in Sessrúmnir
"I'm nobody's fool."
"Debatable." Her lips bowed in a sneer. "All these centuries—you've lived among mortals?" His speech and clothing were contemporary, and she suspected Loki fit perfectly into the modern world. A deceitful, dishonorable creature such as he would prosper in the current age of man.
His grin conveyed secret knowledge. "I've traveled the world, Freya. You'd be amazed at the wonders I've seen. I'm worshipped on every continent, in every culture. I'm known by more names than I can cite." His smile widened. "I've been a rock 'n roll legend and a movie star."
"How nice for you." Freya sneered. She didn't want to admit it but envy smoldered in her belly. Like most ancient deities, the rapidly changing culture and sophisticated technology of the present day eluded her comprehension. She clung to the old ways, grasping at the fading remnants of her power even as her followers dwindled in number with each passing day.
"Hell." He scoffed. "They make films about me… Although, I wonder why I'm always the villain."
She sniffed. "I can't begin to imagine why. You're so sympathetic."
His head lolled. "Ain't I though?"
Midgard
"911 Emergency Response. Do you need police, fire, or medical?"
"Fire," Sawyer said.
"What's on fire?"
"A silo at 4600 Sorenson Road in Truckee, Nevada," Sawyer supplied the full address since the dispatch computer would be unable to pull up a physical location on his cell phone.
"Is anyone in the silo?"
"No."
"Is anyone injured?"
Sawyer hesitated, glancing at Victoria who crouched over his father's body with both of her hands pressed to his chest. The statue still she-wolf had held the same position for the last ten minutes. He had no idea what the hell was happening and the frustration of being helpless ate at him.
Worry churned his gut, leaving the bitter taste of bile in his mouth. The prospect of losing his father scared him to death. His mother's death a couple years before had left an awful void in his life. He couldn't stand to go through it again. Not so soon, maybe not ever. His father wasn't supposed to die. His father was fucking Superman. Invulnerable except for a single, fatal flaw—a blow to the heart could kill him.
"Sir, is anyone injured?" the dispatcher asked again.
"No, just some cattle." He turned away to watch the black column of smoke billowing from the fire. Skinner and his fellow hunters had departed in pursuit of Andy Chart. Sawyer gripped his father's rifle in his hands and absently stroked the black walnut stock as he stood watch over Victoria and Jake.
Sawyer concluded the phone call and checked the time again. The minute hand on his cell phone advanced, officially marking what had been the longest fifteen minutes of his life. The lack of obvious progress or hell, even incremental improvement on any front threatened to drive him nuts.
Movement caught the corner of his eye and triggered a jolt of adrenaline that kicked him to reflexively shoulder his rifle. He spun, aiming the gun at Morena who crept closer along the edge of the yard, less than a hundred feet distant.
The teenager hunched and froze, one foot in the air. Her chin jutted as she shot him a defiant glare. "If Victoria's trying to heal your father, then she needs my help."
He lowered the gun and gestured her closer. "Can you tell what's happening?"
At his signal, Morena scurried to her Alpha's side and knelt. "Something's weird. I've never seen anything like this."
"Like what?" Intensely curious and also concerned, Sawyer dropped to one knee beside his father, across from Victoria and Morena.
"Like... Like... There's something wrong... But I don't know what." Frowning, the tip of the teen's tongue stuck out past her lips, and her eyebrows knit. Without warning, she seized hold of Sawyer's hand and dragged his arm toward her.
Muscles tense, Sawyer curbed the impulse to go for his knife. Taking a chance, he delayed for a second. He opened his mouth to question her, but a surge of pure emotion caught him unprepared. The chilling force cut to the bone, a bitter wind howling down the sides of snow-capped mountains in the dead of winter. Crisp air and sleet pelted his face, blasting back his hair. His humanity recoiled and he struggled to retain a separate identity, even as the current reversed and drew him into the irresistible communion with wolves.
"Fy faen!" Morena shouted. "When did you join my pack?"
"Is this the pack bond?" Sawyer rocked back, a sharp note of astonishment resonating throughout his being. It took him a few seconds to recognize the emotion belonged to the teenager.
"Yes. Not that the likes of you should ever experience it." Morena shot him a sharp glance full of irritation and disgust. Snatching her hand away from his arm, she wiped it on her jeans as if he had leprosy.
The girl's melodramatic lament did nothing to improve his mood, especially since the empathic bond continued to hum between them even without the benefit of physical contact. Sawyer sucked in a deep breath, strove for patience. The injury on his shoulder was superficial. His ribcage ached all over, but a sharp jabbing in the left side made him suspect a previously unnoticed injury sustained during the explosion or the cattle stampede.
Moaning, Morena ran her hands over her face. "How did this horrible thing happen?"
"Victoria did it. She said she needed to bond to me to help my father. It's only supposed to be temporary." Fingers crossed.
"Maybe, but I doubt it," Morena said. "I can feel you."
To his chagrin, his awareness expanded to encompass Morena—quick and clever, jester and thief. She presented a cheerful, clownish disguise to the world, hiding an intense core of loneliness and hurt. He received no words, only feelings and fleeting impressions like still photos of family, friends, and events past. He knew her in a way no human ever knew another. Not lovers. Not mother and child.
Cross-armed, Morena hugged herself and rocked in a self-comforting gesture. Her resentful stare centered on his chest. "I hope she knows what she's doing. I can't believe she's willing to bring a hunter into the pack, even as an Omega—"
Sawyer took immed
iate offense. "I'm not an Omega."
She eyed him, and then an insufferable smirk curved her lips. "Right now I know more about being a werewolf than you, so according to our laws, I rank you."
Sawyer bared his teeth in a non-smile. "In your dreams, Foxy."
The teenager averted her gaze, a dark blush creeping up her throat. "Two unmated young males in the same pack is such a bad idea. If you refuse to submit, you're going to have to fight Logan for rank."
His curiosity pricked. It had been his impression that Victoria headed an all-female wolf pack. "Who's Logan?"
"Unless, of course, Victoria claims you as a concubine."
"What?" Sawyer's mind went blank. Had he heard right? Concubine?
"Then it would probably be okay." Morena cast him a sly sideways glance, devilish humor glinting in her dark eyes, a smirk on her lips.
Belatedly, he realized that she'd gotten his goat. His mouth tugged into an involuntary grin, and he tipped his imaginary hat to her. "Touché."
The teenager laughed and offered a real smile. "Just because you're funny doesn't mean I like you, asshole."
"Right." She hated him, and he didn't blame her. It was a shame. He and Morena could have been friends under better circumstances. Ironically, he liked the smart-mouthed teenager.
How much longer until the fire department arrived? Weary, Sawyer cracked his neck, noticing how the afternoon suddenly grew dimmer.
As if to echo his thoughts, Morena tilted her head back. "Looks like it might rain."
Sawyer opened his mouth to reply when a sudden flash of lightning, followed by the clash of thunder, roared over their heads. The sky, bright and clear just seconds before, filled with dark, rolling storm clouds. The wind howled, whipping his hair and blowing smoke and dust everywhere.
A familiar jolt of power set his blood to burning. Heart pounding, mouth and eyes wide open, Sawyer rose and walked away from Victoria and his father. His searching gaze scanned the sky for the riders of the Wild Hunt who followed the tempest. For as long as he could remember, his mind echoed with the stomp of hooves and the braying of hounds whenever storms brewed. A fat drop of water struck his cheek, but the towering thunderheads remained empty of warriors and beasts.
A brilliant nova of light and heat radiated forth from Victoria, enveloping the she-wolf in a white-blue halo that obscured her features. The nimbus expanded and swallowed Jake's prone form. Electricity sparked the air, lanced in deadly arcs to strike the ground. The lightning storm enveloped both the hunter and wolf, concealing them from view.
Reflexively, Sawyer threw up his hand to shield his eyes, turning his face to the side. A strangled cry escaped his throat, and he blindly charged toward the pair. He caught a glimpse of Morena, reaching for her Alpha, before his foot hit a rock. He stumbled and then slid in the dirt.
The radiant aura vanished.
Before he fell, Sawyer recovered his equilibrium but wound up balanced on one foot. Still skidding, he blinked repeatedly to normalize his vision. As abruptly as the storm had begun, it faded. The dark clouds receded, leaving clear skies and sunshine.
Jake sat upright as Victoria pitched into his arms. He inhaled deeply and looked about, obviously recovering his orientation.
"Let her go!" Morena grabbed for her Alpha's leg.
Sawyer slid to a halt. "Dad, are you all right? What just happened?"
"I died." Jake gathered Victoria in his arms and rose in a smooth motion, hefting the she-wolf without any visible sign of exertion.
"Let me carry her. I should carry her." Morena tugged frantically on Victoria's leg.
"Take it easy or you'll dislocate her hip." Sawyer placed a hand on the girl's elbow.
At his touch, a tremor passed through Morena's entire body, but she slowly eased her death grip on Victoria. Her voice was frantic, her eyes full of tears. "Why did she pass out? She's never passed out from healing someone before! What's wrong with her?"
"She's going to be fine. You don't need to worry," Jake said to Morena. "She needs to sleep it off."
"Let me carry her." Arms spread, Morena crowded closer. The teenager had a tall, whip thin stature, but wolves possessed superior strength to that of normal people. Victoria's weight would be nothing to her.
"Take her into the main farm house." Jake passed the unconscious blonde to the girl. "There's a bedroom off the kitchen."
Morena murmured an agreement and headed toward the house. She vanished down the path in a blink, moving with the speed of a cheetah and leaving a trail of dust in her wake.
"The girl is fast. Let's catch up before she decides to just keep going," Jake's voice held a note of admiration. At a measured pace, he strode after her. As he walked, he extended his hand toward Sawyer.
After a second, Sawyer passed Jake the rifle. "You dropped this."
"Likely story." Jake chuckled and slung the strap over his shoulder.
As accustomed as he was to his father's dramatic recoveries from severe injuries, things were happening too fast for Sawyer to process. He lunged and caught Jake's shoulder. Lowering his voice, he asked, "What was with the storm, Dad? Was that you?"
Jake stopped and turned his head slightly to the side. His eyes contained broody reticence. "Later."
"Okay, later." Sawyer knew that look too well. His father wouldn't speak on the matter until he was damn well ready.
"Where are Skinner and the men?" Jake asked.
"I sent them after Andy Chart." Sawyer burned with suppressed anger and restlessness. More than anything, he wanted to be with his comrades, hunting the traitor who'd tried to kill his father. It was hard staying behind, sitting on the sidelines while others did the hard work.
His father's gaze burned with fury but none of the impatience Sawyer felt. Jake never jumped to conclusions, never rushed into battle without knowing his opponent's strengths and weaknesses inside and out. He never made impulsive decisions based on passion or instinct.
Father and son were polar opposites.
"Trust Skinner to do his job," Jake said. "He's a seasoned huntsman."
"I'm here," Sawyer grated out. "Aren't I?"
Side by side, the two men walked toward the main house where Morena waited on the front porch. The teenager sat on the porch swing with the unconscious Victoria cradled in her arms. She tapped her toes on the wooden planks and regarded them with suspicion. "Is this your farm? I didn't think the Barretts were cow people."
"Actually, Grandpa John was a Texas cattleman," Sawyer drawled. "The farm belongs to a family friend." He shot the burning silo a glance, took in the thick black smoke, and shook his head. "Thom's going—"
"To shit kittens," Jake finished for him, also staring at the silo. "He made me swear not to break anything."
Sawyer chuckled. "Glad I'm not you."
Jake heaved a sigh. "Did you call the fire department?"
"Yeah, a few minutes ago."
Jake turned back toward the farm's access road. "Someone should meet them when they get here. I'll wait." He tipped his head toward the women. "Get them settled."
"I'll do that." Watching his father, Sawyer bit back a grin. His old man was a scary sight—his face, arms, and chest covered in soot and dried blood. "Dad."
The older man glanced over his shoulder, brow arched in inquiry.
"Put on a shirt."
"I've got one in the truck." Amusement sparked in Jake's eyes. "You might take your own advice."
Sawyer looked down at himself, registered his bare chest, and blinked. It took him a second to recall that he'd given his shirt to Victoria. "I didn't bring a change of clothes."
"Lucky for you, I brought several." Jake continued on his way.
Considering the matter settled, Sawyer turned back to the women. Sitting with Victoria on her lap, Morena continued to rock the porch swing. The teenager hugged her Alpha close. The pack bond carried the girl's paralyzing anxiety and worry.
Swathed in his too-big shirt, Victoria looked small enough to be a child. Her fea
tures, relaxed in sleep, accentuated the impression of innocence. Sawyer found the image incongruent with his mental perception of her. In his mind, she was a force to be reckoned with, a formidable and wily opponent sporting snowy white fur, fangs and claws. Not this petite creature.
"Let's get her inside." He opened the front door and held it for them.
Morena carried Victoria inside, and he showed them through the kitchen to the downstairs bedroom. The room had big windows dressed in canary yellow drapes, a double four-post bed, and a six-drawer dresser. As the teenager tucked Victoria beneath the antique comforter, the blonde stirred, eyes fluttering open.
Victoria murmured and struggled beneath the covers. "What's going on?"
"Shh, you need to rest." The girl kicked off her shoes and slipped into the bed beside her Alpha.
Uncomfortable, Sawyer drew the curtains closed and beat a hasty retreat from the room. His hand closed on the knob, but soft feminine whispering stopped him in his tracks.
"Is the baby okay?" Morena asked.
"The baby's fine," Victoria answered on a yawn. "Goddess, but I'm tired."
"Get some sleep, Victory. I'll watch over you."
Shocked, Sawyer pulled the door shut with a solid tug. Mouth open, he stood in the hallway for a time, staring at the dull wooden surface while his mind raced. Was Victoria pregnant? He did the mental math and realized in short order that the child couldn't possibly belong to his brother or she'd be showing. Daniel had died in early December of the prior year, and it was already April.
He'd known she'd taken a mate. He even met the guy, briefly. As inappropriate as it was, Sawyer experienced a sharp sting of outrage on his brother's behalf. Even the acknowledgement it was none of his damn business failed to assuage his wounded pride.
On silent feet, he retreated down the hallway, away from the bedroom, letting sleeping wolves lie.
Hours passed.
Battle Cry (Loki's Wolves Book 2) Page 14