The Were Witch Complete Series Omnibus

by Renée Jaggér

  Once they’d descended from the heights, the two found the winds less severe, though everything was still bitterly cold. Ice fog rose from semi-frozen pools here and there. They stuck to the solid parts of the earth and soon reached the castle, which was built into one of the foothills of the other mountain range on the valley’s far end.

  The structure was the same color as the hills, an ashy near-black, and it was carven with skeletal gargoyles. An inclined causeway led to the front gates. They opened when Fenris and Carl set foot on the stone path, and a guard or herald came out to greet them.

  The approaching figure looked like a man, but not a living one. His skin was grotesque with the pall of death. However, he did not appear actively decayed; his form had been preserved in a close likeness to that of the living, though his lips were drawn back from his teeth in an eerie rigor-mortis grin. He wore tattered robes of dark green and black.

  “You,” the dead man addressed them, in a hollow, raspy voice. “State your names and your business in our domain.”

  Fenris raised a hand, palm facing outwards. “I am Fenris the wolf-father; you know of me, despite us not having met. This is my apprentice Carl. We have come to speak to the council of the undead, the lords of the draugar.”

  The dead face contorted in a creaky expression of skeptical mistrust. “What do you wish to speak to them about, Fenris?”

  The tall god allowed a faint, nasty smile to suggest itself upon his face. “The prospect of overthrowing the gods of Asgard.”

  Understanding dawned on the face of the draug herald. “We have heard that there has been...unrest. Come with me, but do not presume to threaten us.”

  Carl smirked. “Of course not.” Fenris waved for him to be silent.

  The herald led them past the front gate and through the dim halls of the draugar’s mausoleum-like castle, lit with torches that burned with green flame. Other undead faces peered at them from shadowed crevices until finally, on a higher floor beyond a broad spiral staircase, they came to the council chamber.

  It would have been easy to mistake the room for a crypt since it was lined with dust and the corners were thick with cobwebs. Five monolithic square-edged stone chairs were arranged in a rough semicircle facing the doorway. In each sat a figure wearing robes similar to those of the herald, though both finer of cut and dustier from lack of activity. The five dead people, three men and two women, stared at the visitors.

  The herald gave a bow, his movements oddly mechanical. “Great lords, Fenris of Asgard is here to speak to you about how the gods may be overthrown. With him is Carl, his apprentice.”

  The wolf-god and the scion bowed in turn.

  In the central chair was a draug woman with wispy hair like tattered curtains and bluish skin stretched tightly across the bones of her face. She raised a thin hand and whispered, “Fenris, we welcome you today, though under normal circumstances, we would not. Word has reached us that your brethren in the shining halls can no longer suppress the peoples they have forced to the outlands. Is this true?”

  “It is,” the wolf-father answered her. “The frost trolls, dark elves, and rock giants have all risen up and assailed the borders of Asgard, distracting the gods and proving their weakness at my suggestion. If you know who I am, you should know that I bear no love for my so-called family. Their overthrow is my intent.”

  He paused here and there to answer raspy queries from the undead leaders in between repeating the essence of the speech he’d already delivered to the kings of the other monstrous species. They did not seem resistant to his pleas.

  Fenris had dealt with the draugar before, though it had been a long, long time. Transformed from human corpses into immortal creatures of death by an eons-forgotten magical fluke or disease, they were simple-minded despite their relative intelligence. They knew little besides dark brooding or a primitive will to violence, and a desire to make all living things dead like them and feed upon their life essence.

  “How,” the council’s head asked, “do you intend to deal with the more powerful of the deities while preserving yourself from annihilation? And what is your long-term agenda?”

  The wolf-god kept his composure and glanced to his side. “Carl will eliminate Balder, who thinks him to be his apprentice. He is unaware that Carl works for me, in truth. Then the two of us shall confront Tyr, while we lure Thor into a confrontation with the world serpent. While this goes on, you and the other exiled peoples will launch your all-out assault. The divine realm will fall, and its tyranny will be no more. Then the way to the mortal realms beyond will be opened.”

  A handful of further questions later, the draugar’s leaders’ heads began to nod. They assumed that Fenris’s own leadership of the cosmos would be largely a figurehead position, leaving them free to rampage across the worlds of the living.

  The five dead figures looked at one another, then back at their guest. “We accept your proposal,” said the woman in the central chair. “Vengeance against Asgard is reason enough for us, but the rest of what you suggest is...enticing. We desire prey. Deliver it to us, and we shall aid you.”

  Carl smiled and chuckled to himself with a mixture of relief and amusement. He’d been uneasy, but also hopeful about what they might achieve by coming here.

  Fenris only nodded. “Thank you, great lords. The plan is a long time in the making, and we are guided both by prophecy and by the stupidity of the gods. All will go as I have outlined, so long as the girl Bailey Nordin does as she is supposed to.”

  Bailey and Loki sat cross-legged across from one another. They’d once more found a sheltered nook apart from the others in the rock of the great to continue Bailey’s training and instruction while the remainder of the mortal force rested.

  “Concentrate,” said Loki, his sardonic face calm but strangely distant. The horror of having to eat lower-middle-quality human food had passed, and he was once again in full control of himself.

  The girl, for her part, was too engrossed in the magical exercise to think about food one way or another.

  They’d begun with a repeat of the exercise Loki had shown her previously, manipulating a ball of his siphoned-off divine essence. From there, they’d proceeded to more advanced techniques.

  Loki had dismissed the ball, and they’d opened a link between themselves to allow for both the sharing and the stealing of power. It was like a compromise between what they’d done earlier and the method Fenris had shown her for killing a god.

  The mischief-god said, “You will notice that at present there is a circular conduit between us; our powers flow into one another, then out and back, in a state of balance. This is what happens when a two-way channel is opened, but if either of us exerts the necessary will, it will become something else—a struggle for all the power between us.”

  Blowing air from her nostrils, the girl managed a slight nod. She felt as though the universe itself was passing through her, then leaving her empty, then returning. The magnitude of the forces involved was large enough that she had to maintain a mental state of calm and acceptance. Otherwise, she would panic, and the results might be catastrophic for either or both of them, not to mention anyone nearby.

  But she managed. For now.

  They practiced pulling magic from each other; a one-sided tug-of-war scenario in both directions. Then they opposed one another with equal force and finally began an honest struggle to steal as much magic as possible.

  Loki stopped them before things grew too dangerous. “You seem to have the general hang of it, though in a true fight to the death, the intensity will be ramped up still higher. But knowing how this works ought to improve your overall abilities in the manipulation of magic at its source.”

  “Okay.” She sighed. “Good. But why do I need to be skilled at doing this? Is there a specific reason, or is this kind of a backup plan in case Fenris tries to bleed me out?”

  The deity smirked and tapped a finger to his temple. “Trust me,” he remarked. “I know many, many things.” />
  Her face twisted into an exasperated pout, but, sighing, she opted not to protest. Loki was smart, and he probably had a plan. Furthermore, everything he’d told her about Fenris and the situation had turned out to be true. She had no reason to mistrust him. Besides his ancient reputation, of course. But it occurred to her that even an inveterate trickster could do the right thing when it suited him.

  Loki raised a hand. “Begin again. This time, I will offer moderate resistance, and I want you to take as large a chunk of power from me as you can. Without killing me, of course.”

  The girl frowned but did as he said.

  It was more difficult this time since her partner began his struggle as soon as the link opened. She had no time to “gear up” and get used to the bizarre feeling of so much divinity flowing between them. Heightening her senses while remaining calm, she rose to the challenge.

  Then, as Loki’s barriers broke down and magic surged into her core of being, the link abruptly ended. Both of them fell backward from their sitting positions. Bailey was shocked by how energized she felt, while Loki seemed exhausted and enfeebled.

  They sat back up and looked at each other.

  As had been the case during their previous exercise, Bailey blushed, feeling sort of like a distant relative had given her a large wad of cash for no particular reason at a time when the relative needed it more than Bailey did.

  “I can give all this back,” she pointed out. “You made the point, and I understand the process. There’s no need for you to be endangered. We need everyone at full capacity for what’s coming, don’t we?”

  Loki flapped a hand through the air. “Don’t worry about it. You have, I’d say, earned the right to keep it. As I said last time, gods can regenerate magical power in much the same way that mortals can regenerate blood after losing a bit of it. I will be fine in a short while. Nonetheless, I am weakened for the moment.”

  Bailey looked at him through eyes narrowed with concern. He looked weakened—paler, shaky, and somehow smaller. “Will you be able to take care of yourself? Or to help us, for that matter?”

  “Don’t worry about me. As for aiding you, I can open one more portal that will be of use to you, but that’s about it. I can get you in and out and offer advice. Beyond that, you will have to rely on yourselves.”

  The girl stood up and started to speak. “Well, I… Shit!” She staggered, and her head swam as she tried to keep her balance.

  “Easy,” said the god of mischief. “You’ve absorbed a great deal of power in a short span of time. Clearly, you will need time and rest to adapt to it. You’re in no condition to plunge directly into battle.”

  The stubborn, gung-ho part of the werewitch railed against his words, and her mind searched for an argument, but she couldn’t find one. He was right; she felt sick, confused, and disoriented, as though she was coming down after drinking a ridiculous amount of sugar and caffeine.

  “Uuuggghhh,” she groaned. “Yeah, think I’m gonna need a minute.”

  Loki slowly stood also, as though he too were ill. “You’ll need more than that. Since time passes differently in the Other, I’d say you ought to go back to Earth for a short time and recover there. With the right, shall we say, perceptual attitude, your friends here will be fine and will only feel as though an extra thirty or forty minutes have passed. You will require hours, or perhaps a full day.”

  The werewitch didn’t think she should abandon her friends when they were so close to completing the task before them. But, she admitted to herself, it might be better to delay the last battle than fuck it up because I’m not operating at one hundred percent.

  She and Loki strolled back to the mass of agents and witches and explained their conclusions. Velasquez frowned, clearly impatient for victory, but he didn’t want to risk Bailey falling unconscious in the middle of fighting or proceed without her.

  “We’ll wait,” he said. “My biggest fear is that whatever intelligence controls these creatures is going to unleash them on the United States before we can finish wiping them out. We do well against them because we have the training and the tools. Same with witches and, uh, deities. The general populace wouldn’t be so lucky.”

  Bailey took the man’s hand. “If you get any sense that that’s about to happen, send Roland after me, and I’ll come back and try my best right away, no matter what. But if you can wait a little while longer, it might be for the best.”

  He nodded and gave her his blessing to go recover.

  Roland embraced her. “Goodbye yet again, though I suppose it won’t seem like very long. Take care of yourself.”

  She ruffled his hair. “Same.”

  Loki gave the mortals a nod, then, summoning what power still remained to him, opened a portal leading back to Greenhearth, Oregon.

  Chapter Fourteen

  After a few hours of lounging around the house, Bailey decided she was well enough to drive, and definitely well enough to eat.

  “All right,” she said to Kurt, the only one of her brothers who was home at the moment, “I’m gonna head out.”

  He pouted. “Aww, we were having so much fun lying around and watching bullshit reality shows! I guess I brought it on myself by making impertinent comments about Jacob’s sexual proclivities. Next time I’ll shut up so he brings me along.”

  “Right,” Bailey responded. “You’re growing up after all.”

  “Ouch,” Kurt replied. “That was harsh. Does this mean I can legally drink?”

  The girl pulled on her boots. “Not for, what, three more years? Or is it four? I forget.”

  They bickered for another half a minute before her youngest brother rose from his place on the floor by the TV and came over to hug her. “Be careful out there. Lately our town isn’t a battleground, finally, but we all know you’ve still got some serious shit to deal with.”

  “I will be careful,” she assured him, “and I will deal with it. But not right this second.”

  She left the house, hopped into her Toyota Tundra, and drove the truck into town, turning off Main Street toward Gunney’s shop.

  It was early afternoon, a warm but not too hot day with scattered sunshine. She parked out front and climbed down from the vehicle, pleased to see that Gunney had customers again. He and the new girl were working on an old SUV, and what looked like a Firebird was waiting in the proverbial wings in one of the other bays.

  She waved as she approached. “Sup?”

  Gunney waved to her without looking at her as he finished tightening a bolt, then turned around in time to see her a second or so before she grabbed him in a big hug.

  “Oof,” he replied. “Warn me next time, girl. You’re strong enough to break me in half, remember?”

  She let him go, smiling. “Sorry, old man. Anyway, not trying to interrupt. Need any help?”

  He shrugged. “We’re almost done, then we're gonna break for lunch for an hour or so. You can come with if you want.”

  She helped Gunney and the new girl finish with the SUV’s rims. Then the new girl went home for the day while Gunney closed up the shop.

  “I was thinking,” he began, wiping grease off his hands onto a dirty rag, “of hitting up this barbecue shack they opened on the south side of town. What do you think?”

  “Sure,” Bailey agreed. “I’m hungry enough to eat damn near anything. I’ll tell you all about it, of course. There’s that and more. It’s been a crazy couple of days.”

  Her employer flipped his cap off to air out his scalp and hair, shaking his head. “I bet. Every time you come back, the shit I ended up hearing gets more and more, uh, we’ll say ‘improbable.’ I believe you, though.”

  Gunney led her out back, where he retrieved the Cobra from its hiding place within the scrapyard. “Might as well travel in style.”

  “Hey!” the werewitch protested. “That’s supposed to be my line.”

  They pretended to argue as they climbed into the old sports car and left the shop behind, cruising down the streets towar
d the new establishment.

  As they drove, Bailey filled Gunney in on everything that had happened since they’d last seen each other.

  “So, Balder came out and found me not long after you and I last spoke,” she explained. “I can’t remember if you met him or not? He’s the Norse god of beauty and innocence, and he sits on the council.”

  Gunney sort of waved his hand in a circle to indicate that it was coming back to him and that she should proceed with the story. She did, detailing how the deity had joined her for lunch and then taken her to the southwest overlook for a lesson in swordsmanship that lasted until the following dawn.

  “And,” she continued, “then we went back into the Other, we in this case meaning me and Roland and the agents, since Balder left again. We went after the witch ghosts again, blasted the shit out of another hundred of the fuckers, took out some of their giant blobby mushroom crystal things that they use to anchor themselves to the physical world, and...”

  The mechanic was rubbing his temple with the fingers of his left hand by the end of it. He tried hard, she knew, but she could understand how grasping what the hell she was talking about would be a challenge for him, despite his having lived in Greenhearth and therefore, around werewolves half his life.

  “Girl,” he muttered, “you lead a heck of an interesting life, I’ll say that much. I’m having trouble following most of it, but the universe is a bigger and more stupefying place than I ever would have thought. I went all over America when I was younger, but that doesn’t seem like much compared to traveling to different dimensions and shit, not to mention you have authority in all this. You’ve grown into something beyond what anyone would have expected. I know I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating. I’m proud of you.”

  She grinned, enjoying the feeling of warmth that went down her neck and back at that. “It does bear repeating. Always nice to hear, especially since I know it’s true.”

  “In fact,” Gunney added, “since you’re such a big shot these days, how about you pay for our dinner this time? I just paid you anyway—well, for what little work you’ve been able to do lately—so it’s only fair. I’m a mere mortal.”