“Who is trying to get in?” Astrid asked. There was amusement in her tone.
“The Draugr!”
There was silence for a moment on the other end of the line. “What did you say?”
“I know. Erik told me everything. They’re trying to get in.” The pounding intensified. “Please, help me!”
This time when she spoke, any hint of mirth was gone. “Where is your apartment?” Astrid asked. “Quickly.”
She rattled off the address and begged, “Hurry. Please, please hurry!”
“I’ll be right there. Are you safe?”
“I’m locked into the bathroom,” she said. “Please, I don’t know what to do.”
She could plainly hear the echoes of Astrid’s heels on the museum floor. “Shall I come in when I get there?”
Nika nodded, “Yes. Yes, come in. Help me fight these things off!”
The phone went dead, and the pounding at the windows reached a frightful crescendo. Nika curled up in a fetal position in the shower, her arms covering her head.
***
Gunnar and Erik made their careful way down the stairs into the basement. There were no lights, but they were Veithimathr, so light was not all that necessary. The could see well enough without it.
Erik held his gun in front of him, carefully pointing the way, ready to open fire if any of the Draugr were to leap out at him. The musty smell was deeper here at the bottom of the stairs, and immediately ahead of him, a weathered wooden door stood closed. He pushed it open.
He should have predicted the whining of the hinges, the haunted-house sound effect that ripped the air around them. Gunnar froze, looking up the stairs toward the rest of the house. There was no sound of footsteps, and no indication of anyone approaching. Emboldened, Erik pushed the door open further and proceeded.
He stepped through the doorway and into a scene that took his breath away. Here in the basement of this modern house, in a room that took up the entire foundation, the Draugr had recreated the sacred grove at Uppsala. The hörgr stood in the center of a circle of papier-maché trees, molded in the form of giant oaks thickly hung with mistletoe and holly. The heavy branches, as false as the trunks, reached out over the altar and formed a protective canopy.
Between the trees, statutes stood, carved from real oak wood. The one in the center was Thor, the mighty god, his hammer in his hand. Flanking him were representations of Odin, his missing eye covered by a swath of homespun cloth. On the other side stood Freyr, god of joy. All three had been colored black with a combination of pitch and animal blood.
The smell of the blood was like a drug in their noses. Both men approached slowly, their weapons forgotten. Erik held out a hand and pressed it against Freyr’s side. It came away coated with gore.
He smelled the blood on his hand. “Dogs and horses,” he told Gunnar, speaking in their ancient native tongue.
“Then they have already begun the sacrifices.” His partner sounded both awestruck and afraid. “What is the moon phase?”
He didn’t need to look to know. He always knew. “Waning.”
Behind Thor stood a stylized version of the World Tree, Yggdrasil. The bodies of the sacrificed animals hung from its branches, draining into vats beneath them.
“How long?”
He meant until the new moon, until the time for the darkest magic to be performed. “Three days.”
Gunnar growled in his throat, and his voice was thick. “We need to desecrate this shrine. We need to stop them.”
“First we need to find the Sword,” Erik reminded him. “It isn’t down here. Let’s keep looking.”
They abandoned the shrine and the echoes of the lives they’d led so long ago and so far away. Erik could not say that he didn’t feel a little homesick. He also felt thirst, real vampire thirst, and he struggled to push it away. The sooner he left this blood-soaked room, the easier that would be.
***
The pounding outside Nika’s apartment stopped abruptly, and the sudden silence was almost more unnerving than the noise had been. She clung to her mace and tried to stay hidden in the shower.
Someone knocked on her front door loudly, twice. “Miss Graves?”
It was Astrid. Nearly weeping in relief, Nika abandoned her hiding place and ran to the door, opening the locks and flinging it open wide.
The Valtaeigr looked concerned on the other side of the threshold. “Miss Graves!” She exclaimed. “I’m so grateful you aren’t hurt!”
Nika grabbed her arm and pulled her inside, then slammed and locked the door again. “Are they gone? They were at every window…”
“They’ve gone.” Astrid put her hands on the red-haired woman’s shoulders. “Breathe. You’re safe now. They’ve fled.”
“Are you sure? Did you see them leave?”
“Calm down!”
The rattled woman hurried from window to window, looking out for signs of her unwelcome guests. They were nowhere to be found. Astrid watched her scurry for a while, then went to her, a gentle hand on her back.
“You are so terrified! I would not have expected someone of your bloodline to be so fearful.”
She felt insulted. “They were going to kill me.”
“No, they weren’t.” She pulled Nika to sit beside her on the couch. Beneath the furniture, the Soul Stone flickered once and went silent.
Nika felt the change in the jewel, and she looked from Astrid to the door. It was slowly dawning on her that she may have done a very bad thing.
“I asked you in,” she breathed, more to herself than to Astrid.
The other woman smiled broadly, her long Draugr teeth descending into the light. “Yes, she nodded. You did.”
She grabbed Nika’s throat in one hand and squeezed. Nika struggled against the grip, kicking and clawing, but Astrid’s strength was unbreakable. Astrid never stopped smiling.
She could not breathe, and her vision was darkening from the edges inward, sparkling with stars. She held on as long as she could, crying out in her mind for help, until finally the darkness overtook her and she fell still.
Chapter Ten - Flux
Erik and Gunnar searched the ground floor of the house, the upper floor with the bedrooms, and even the attic. There were signs everywhere of habitation, but the place was utterly vacant. There was no sign of Rolf or of the sword.
“Where is he?” Erik asked. Gunnar shook his head.
“I don’t know. He was supposed to meet us here. They certainly all cleared out…”
“Suspicious, isn’t it?”
Erik scanned the ceilings as he walked through the house, looking for the telltale signs of electronic surveillance. He could hear a soft whirring behind one door, but when he opened it, he found only a busily spinning clothes dryer on a timed cycle. He closed the door again.
“This feels all wrong,” he told Gunnar. “Let’s get out of here and regroup.”
They retreated to their vehicle, keeping their eyes on the skies, watching for the airborne return of their immortal enemies. They made it to the car unmolested and climbed in, keeping their weapons with them instead of returning them to the trunk. Erik threw the car into gear while Gunnar fired up his radio.
“Unit one to unit two, do you copy?”
A long moment of white noise ensued, then a crackling voice replied, “Unit two, copy. Go ahead, unit one.”
“Status?”
“All quiet. Dead man still dead.” Hrothgar sounded bored.
“Any word from Rolf?”
“No. Didn’t he make the rendezvous?”
“Negative. No contact.”
Hrothgar cursed colorfully in Old Norse. Erik nodded and muttered, “That’s what I’m sayin’.”
A thought occurred to him, and he took the radio out of Gunnar’s hand.
“Status on Diva?”
“She left here about an hour ago. Said she was going to lunch.” Hrothgar hesitated. “You know. Lunch.”
He meant that Astrid had gone to feed.
Gunnar frowned. “In the middle of the day?”
Their colleague responded, “Hey, when the thirst hits…”
Erik frowned and handed the radio back to Gunnar, who told their friends, “Keep in touch with any changes.”
“Roger that.”
Gunnar put the radio away and looked at his partner. “Now what?”
He shook his head. “Everything feels wrong. This is… just…” He took a deep breath. “You don’t think Rolf switched sides, do you?”
“No. Absolutely not. He’d die first. We all would.”
“He said that the sword was there.”
“Yeah, well, it’s gone now…”
Erik scowled. “And so is he. Maybe he took it and ran when the house cleared out. But why wouldn’t he contact us? And why did the house clear out?”
It wasn’t unusual for a houseful of Draugr to empty at night, when they went out to hunt their human prey. During the day, though, they normally rested.
Gunnar fiddled with the dials on the radio and called out: “Unit one to unit three, over.”
There was no response. Erik drove them out of the suburban neighborhood and back toward the city. His partner tried again.
“Unit three, do you copy?”
The radio tweeted, and Astrid’s voice came through as steady and strong as if she were in the car. “Diva to unit one. Report.”
“This is unit one.” Erik shook his head sharply, and his companion amended what he had started to say. “Nothing to report. Heading out to the rendezvous site now.”
Erik nodded approvingly, and Gunnar warmed to his own lie.
Astrid’s response sounded very surprised. “You’re going just now?”
“Encountered some delays in the city,” he answered.
“Where are you now?”
Erik turned onto the eastbound lane of the local highway, and Gunnar said, “West bound to Hillsview. Three clicks to rendezvous.”
“Very well.” She sounded nonplussed. “Report back with what you encounter.”
“Roger that.” He turned the radio off. “She’s gone over to them.”
Erik nodded. “So it seems. She always was ambitious – I guess having the sword so close was more than she could stand. I’ll bet she had Rolf bring the sword to her.” He glanced at his partner. “Let’s go check her hotel room.”
***
Nika awoke to find herself bound at the ankles and wrists, lying on her side in the back seat of a limousine. Astrid was sitting on the seat facing her, her back to the driver, a wicked-looking dagger in her hand.
“Good morning, princess,” she greeted coldly. “So good of you to join us.”
In the rearview mirror, Nika could see that the woman Erik had called Sigrunn was driving the car. She tugged against her restraints but was held fast. She lay still again.
“You could have just invited me to take a drive with you,” she said, her mouth dry. “You didn’t have to choke me out.”
“You were hysterical. You would never have come without making a huge scene,” Astrid sniffed. “Honestly, I’m disappointed in you. I would have thought that a god’s vessel would have more intestinal fortitude.”
Nika scowled. “Well, pardon me. It was my first vampire attack.”
Sigrunn chuckled. “Won’t be your last.”
“Hush.” The reprimand was gently spoken, and it was received with a shrug. Astrid crossed her legs and leaned back, studying Nika. “He has had sex with you. I can smell it.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” She swung her foot idly. “I honestly don’t care where my husband sows his seed.”
She felt punched in the stomach. “Husband?”
“Yes,” she smiled. “Didn’t he tell you? Oh, well. I’m sure there’s a great deal he hasn’t told you yet. He’s full of secrets, our Erik.”
She should have known. It had been too good to be true. She closed her eyes. “Apparently.”
“He’s given your field a good plowing, but he hasn’t chosen you. Odd, considering.”
Her voice was flat. “Considering what?”
“Considering who you are to him.”
“And what’s that?”
Astrid chuckled. “Oh, my dear, if he hasn’t told you, then I’m certainly not going to say a word. I’ll leave that to you two love birds to sort out.”
She looked away from the other woman’s gloating expression, casting her gaze out the window. From her vantage point, she could see only electrical wires and the tops of trees. There were no buildings.
“We’re not in the city any longer.”
“No.”
Sigrunn volunteered, “We’re taking you someplace special.”
Whatever that meant, Nika decided that it couldn’t have been anything good. She pulled against her bonds again.
“It’s no use,” Astrid told her. “You’re not going to break free. You might as well just enjoy the ride, little Valtaeigr.”
“I thought you were Valtaeigr, too.”
“Yes,” she nodded, “but soon I’ll be so much more. You’ll help me with that, I hope.”
Nika looked away and stayed silent.
***
The entire team from Stockholm was staying in the same hotel, with rooms on the same corridor. Erik and Gunnar went directly to Astrid’s room.
“Do you have a key?” his partner asked.
Erik shook his head. “No. And I don’t need one.” He grasped the door handle and turned it with all of his strength. The mechanism within the lock shattered, and the door swung open.
He could sense the sword immediately. It took no time at all to find it, wrapped in a velvet cloth and tucked beneath the pillows of the bed. As soon as he picked it up, the runes in the blade flared and shifted, changing before their eyes.
The nonsense message that had been etched into the blade changed while they watched, the runes flowing together and changing until they spelled out a very legible message: What was lost has been found.
“By Odin,” Gunnar breathed.
The spot on the cross piece where the Sálsteinn should have been was a dull spot in the middle of the green glow from the runes. The void was dark and foreboding, and Erik was suddenly filled with the conviction that Nika was in danger.
“Go to the vault,” he told his partner. “They’re going to come for Hakon, and we can’t let them take him.”
“Where are you going?”
“To get the Soul Stone.” He tightened his grip on the sword. “May the gods smile on us all.”
Chapter Eleven - Casualties
Nika was dumped unceremoniously in one of the bedrooms on the second floor, still hogtied. Sigrunn dropped her onto the bed and looked down at her with a sneer. She said nothing, but her opinion was clear to see in her expression. She left the room, locking the door behind her.
She worried at the ropes, tugging and twisting until her skin was rubbed raw, and finally one of the loops loosened enough that she freed one hand. After that, it was an easy thing to untie herself the rest of the way.
She tested the door, although she had seen Sigrunn lock it. There was no escape that way. There was only one window in the room, and it overlooked a sheer drop down to the driveway. The window itself had been painted shut, and though she tried, she could not open it.
She looked around the room and found nothing that she could use as a weapon that would hurt vampires. There was a brass candle holder, tall and ornate, but it would do nothing against her captors. The hinges on the door were on the inside, but the screws had been painted over, as well. She didn’t have anything she could use as a screwdriver, anyway.
Nika went to the door and listened. She could hear no voices, and there was no indication of anyone moving around outside her room. If she was going to make a move, she would have to do it now.
She grabbed the candle holder and swung it like a baseball bat, shattering the window glass. The sound was startlingly loud. She grabbed the coverlet from the
bed and put it over the broken shards, said a prayer for luck, and climbed out of the window.
She tried to grab the window frame and lower herself down, but the glass still bit through the coverlet, slashing her palms. She clenched her teeth to keep from crying out. Blood dripped down her wrists.
There was nothing to do but let go. She dropped to the ground and landed feet first. The impact was jarring but not as damaging as she would have expected. It was bad enough to jam both of her ankles, but she was not hobbled for long.
The limousine was gone, and there were no other cars in sight. She had no idea where she was. She only knew that she had to get away, and fast.
She ran across the yard to the stable, hoping she remembered how to ride a horse. She burst through the doors and looked around, taking stock of the seven stalls, each one occupied by a high-quality equine. She ran to the eighth stall, hoping to find something she could use.
When she saw the contents of the eighth stall, she stopped short, her blood turning to ice. There was a man hanging from the roof, naked and suspended by one ankle, his wrists bound and scraping the floor. He was surrounded by a pool of blood. His back was horribly mangled, the ribs shattered and his organs exposed. Horribly, she could see his heart, and it was beating.
He opened his eyes.
“Radio,” he rasped.
She was in shock and did not respond immediately. After a moment, though, she searched the stall and found a heap of clothes and gear in the corner. There was no radio.
“I can’t find one,” she told him.
He struggled to breathe, barely able to inhale at all. He mouthed, “Phone.”
She dug further into the pile, finding nothing. She was about to give up when she saw the edge of a smart phone sticking up out of the straw. She grabbed the phone and brought it to him.
He was silent, his eyes closed again. His heart was still beating, but it was ragged and irregular. She had no idea how to help him.
She turned on the phone and dialed 911. Before the operator could answer, she hung up, once again stymied by what she should say to the mortal authorities.
She was saved from her indecision by an incoming call. She answered it.
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