Mia stepped forward and swung the shadow sword into him. It slashed across his chest, and he looked down in surprise at the gash it created. Blood poured out of the wound, and he looked up at her, eyes wide.

  “You little -”

  His words cut off when he burst into a shower of dust and ash. She watched his death with a smile, then dismissed her sword. She stepped on the little pile of his remains as she walked out the door.

  ***

  Nika let the power lead her. It pulled her along an invisible string, guiding her to its anchor. She willed it to pull her quickly and felt the cold air rushing over her body as she streaked forward. She was exhilarated, excited and thrilled nearly beyond her ability to think. He was alive! Her lover, her soul mate, her Chosen, her master - the one man she could never live without. She wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. All of the grief that had weighted her heart before was gone, and in its place was the feeling of him, the ‘Erik-ness’ of his living spirit on the other end of their link.

  Why couldn’t he feel it? Why was he not celebrating as wildly as she? She needed to see him, to show him the wonderful truth, that they were still alive and still together. She was delirious with the inrush of all of his power, his delicious strength, the magic and the age and the experience that made him so mighty.

  She could sense him now on the ground beneath her, miles and miles below. She opened her arms and flew down to meet him, pulling up at the last moment when she realized that there was a house in the way. She shook the confusion out of her head and landed in the garden. It was Ingrid’s garden. She had spent many days here, learning and living. And now he was here, alive and well.

  Erik opened the door and stood, staring. She went to him and wrapped herself around him, bursting into happy tears when she saw him. She pushed her hands inside the robe he wore, running them over his chest and the rock-hard muscles of his shoulders. He pulled her close and held her tight.

  “Erik,” she whispered against his skin. “Erik! They told me you were lost.”

  He kissed her deeply, and she surrendered herself to the touch, utterly his just as he was utterly hers. She could feel his heart beating against hers, both physically and through the spiritual connection they shared once again. It felt so right, and so perfect, that she could not stop crying.

  Erik picked her up in his arms and carried her inside, closing the door with his foot. Ingrid rose to meet them, her face beatific with a wide smile. She held a handkerchief and dabbed at Nika’s eyes, wiping away her tears. Nika reached out to embrace her, too, including her in the circle of her joy.

  She sat on Erik’s lap, where she kept her arms around his neck. Ingrid was chattering at her, but she couldn’t hear a word over the delightful sound of his heartbeat. She smiled, and she melted, utterly undone by the beauty of his face and the sparkle in his blue eyes. She kissed him over and over.

  The power that had brought her to him slowly receded, returning to its rightful owner. He grew stronger as she faded, but that was all right with her. She was happy to have his arms around her, giving her protection once more. She was where she wanted to be, and he was himself again, and he had been returned to her. Nothing else could ever matter as much.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ingrid left the two lovers alone and went out into her garden. She knelt and pressed her hands deep into the earth, concentrating her magic into the ley lines that ran beneath her house. She connected with the line, a river of paranormal energy connecting all of the magical places in the world, and pushed her consciousness into it. Her body became ghost-like and followed.

  She swam for what might have been an hour or might only have been a second or two, but she finally found what she was seeking. She emerged from the line in the center of a sacred grove in northern Finland. The grove was silent, but she could feel the eyes of a dozen or more faery watching her warily.

  “I come in peace,” she said. “I seek parley with your leader.”

  A voice came from the silent woods. “We have no leader.”

  “Then I need to speak to the alpha of the pack who defends you.”

  The faery whispered among themselves, and then the voice spoke again. “You are the witch Ingrid Nilsson.”

  “I am.”

  “You are the vessel of Frig.”

  “I am.”

  An aged elf, young in appearance but shimmering with the power of antiquity, emerged from the shadows. “You are harboring the Rune Master and the last Huntsman.”

  She saw no use in denying it. “I am.”

  “Why? You know of their sins against us.”

  “I know that the rest of the First have sinned against you. Thorvald has not, not of his own volition.”

  The elf looked unimpressed. “You must know about the recent raid upon the troll camp. Thorvald was part of it.”

  “I know,” she acknowledged, “but he was enspelled. Surely you of all beings understand enchantments.”

  “Assuming that this is the truth,” the elf hedged, “that does not excuse the murder of the Nøkken chieftain.”

  “He was attempting to attack the humans. The Veithimathr are bound by the gods to prevent such things. He would have exposed all of us, and all of you. His death was a mercy to us all.”

  One corner of the elf’s mouth turned down. “I do not believe his death was merciful.”

  “Well, not for him. But for the rest of us.”

  The elf considered briefly. “I will tell the alpha that you wish to speak with him. We will be in touch.”

  Ingrid smiled. “My thanks, ancient one.”

  “Don’t thank me yet,” the elf counseled. “The alpha has not accepted, and it may all come to naught. Now go back the way you came. You are not welcome by everyone here.”

  She bowed her head. “Until we speak again.”

  The elf sighed. “We will not see one another again in this lifetime.”

  Ingrid knelt and returned to her home through the ley line. She emerged in her garden and went back into her house.

  ***

  The delirium of power had mostly passed from Nika’s mind by the time Ingrid returned to the house. She still clung to Erik, unwilling to let go of him now that she had him in her arms again. He tolerated her clinginess - even seemed to like it - and did everything he could to be gentle and reassuring.

  She kissed him for the hundredth time and said, “What happened to you? Magda told me you were dead.”

  He frowned. “Magda dosed me with a kind of dreyri that acts like a narcotic, and she turned me over to the First.”

  Nika gasped, horrible images running through her head of what those unrepentant Vikings might have done to him. “Are you okay?”

  “I am now. They had a Valtaeigr with them, and she kept using this… incense or something. The smoke made me out of my head. I don’t know what it was, or what their end game was, but… I wasn’t myself.”

  She saw a glimmer of guilt in his expression, and he looked away. “Whatever you did, it was because of the drug.” She hesitated. “Right?”

  “I’d like to think so.”

  “What else would it be?” she asked. “You’re a good man, Erik.”

  There was doubt in his eyes when he looked back at her. “Maybe.”

  She embraced him, trying to drive his troubles away. “No maybe about it. What you did in the olden days, that was just because you were a man of your times. What you do now is entirely different, and the man I know would never hurt anyone unless it was in self-defense.”

  “Now, Nika, you know that’s not true.” She was surprised by his mildly scolding tone. “I’m a soldier. We’re trained for the express purpose of hurting people.”

  She put her hand over his mouth. “I’m not talking about what you’re ordered to do. I know you’re in Special Forces, and you’ve probably killed a lot of people in the name of king and country. I get that. I’m talking about you, as a person, on your own.”

  He gently pulled her hand aside and said, “You have so much faith in me.”

  His tone was thick, and she couldn’t read it completely. She nodded. “Yes. I do.”

  This time, he was the one who initiated the kiss. “I’m so sorry that Magda lied to you.”

  “I’m sorry she handed you over to them.” She hesitated on the question, but she had to ask it. “Did they...hurt you?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  She relaxed, relieved that her worst imaginings had been false. “Good.”

  Ingrid returned to the house, and Nika greeted her with a smile. The old woman chuckled. “You look happy.”

  “I’m ecstatic.”

  Ingrid sat across the table from them. “I just asked the elves to arrange a parley with Ardrik.”

  Erik looked surprised. “A parley? What for? He’s not the talking kind, as I recall.”

  “He needs to know that these raids on the faery are by rogue Draugr and not by all of you, and that it isn’t sanctioned.”

  “Honestly, I don’t know who would sanction anything. We don’t have any central authority.”

  She looked at him pointedly and said, “There could be. You are Hakon’s heir, and you should be their leader.”

  “I don’t think the Draugr want a leader,” he hedged.

  Nika looked at him. “It makes sense. You’re the most powerful, and you’re a born leader. You should be in charge.”

  He gently put her on her feet and stood. “No. I can’t be.”

  “Why not?” Ingrid asked.

  “Look at what just happened. They controlled me. No leader worth a damn can be controlled.”

  “Those were extraordinary circumstances,” Nika objected.

  “Were they? Or is there some flaw in me that allowed it?” He paced the floor. “And it was so easy to convince me to revert to the old brutality. Was that the dreyri and the magic, or is that something in me that’s always there? What if power makes me revert again?”

  Ingrid frowned and snapped, “Stop it. This isn’t like you, and it’s unworthy of a Veithimathr.” He stopped short, a surprised look on his face. “Someone needs to take control of this unruly lot, and to finally put an end to what the First and Magda are doing. That person needs to be you.”

  Nika had never seen Erik looking so flummoxed. He struggled to speak. “But… I… how do I do that? How do I take control?”

  She folded her hands. “You call a congress of the Draugr and you announce it. If anyone objects, you kill them. It’s that simple.”

  Nika’s mouth dropped open. “That’s brutal!”

  “Violence and power are the only things that Draugr truly understand,” Ingrid said with a shrug.

  Erik stopped pacing and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “And how do you propose that I do that? The Draugr are all over the world. They’re not all going to assemble in one place. There wouldn’t be room.”

  Curiosity poked Nika, as it so frequently did. “How many Draugr are there?”

  “Thousands,” he answered. “Nobody knows the exact number.”

  “You call the local Draugr together at Uppsala, and I use the power of the place to broadcast what you have to say to the rest of your people,” Ingrid said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Nika can help me.”

  She shook her head. “I have no idea how to do that.”

  “I can teach you.”

  Ingrid’s words reminded her of her time already spent here, learning rune magic, and she felt a sudden flash of heat and dismay. “Oh my God,” she said. “Magda and Natasha have the book.”

  “We’ll get it back,” Erik said. “I’ll get Lars to help me, and we’ll run a mission to retrieve it.”

  Nika went cold. “You don’t know.”

  “Know what?”

  “Erik… Lars and Sif are dead.”

  His jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth. “How?”

  “The Ulfen attacked the cottage in Finland. They were destroyed.” She went to him and put a hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry.”

  He stood in silence for a long moment, fighting his emotions. Finally, he turned on Ingrid. “And you want me to talk to them?”

  She was unmoved by the ferocity in his voice. “Yes. Don’t let more of your people die because of what the First are doing.”

  Nika rubbed his arm comfortingly. He looked at her, and his eyes were full of barely-contained rage. “How did Magda survive? She’s not the fighter those two were.”

  She thought back. “I don’t know. She was in the bedroom upstairs when I got there, and it looked like she defended herself… I guess she was lucky.”

  He looked unconvinced. He pulled away from her and went to the door. “I need air.”

  Nika began to follow him outside, but Ingrid stopped her. “Let him go.”

  “But he’s upset,” she protested.

  “That’s why you need to give him space. Men like Erik won’t grieve in front of women.”

  “That’s stupid.”

  “He doesn’t want to seem weak. Remember, in some ways, he is not a modern man.”

  Nika sighed and returned to sit across from Ingrid. “So how do we get the book back?”

  Ingrid patted her hand. “Let me handle that.”

  ***

  Erik was furious.

  He stalked out of Ingrid’s house and took flight immediately, his anger amplifying his native power. He went to Oulo and the cabin that they had rented for their ill-fated holiday. The place was a disaster. Police tape was strung all around the building, and debris was everywhere.

  He ducked under the tape and went inside. He immediately saw the two piles of ash, disturbed but still heaped on the carpeting. He wanted to weep, but his anger dried his tears before they could fall. He scanned the room with every sense at his disposal, catching the scent of dried blood and Ulfen musk. A single Ulfen fang lay in the corner, apparently knocked out during the fight. He picked it up and held it in his hand, staring at it.

  A sound on the porch, soft and almost non-existent, caught his attention, and he turned to face the door. To his surprise, Ardrik stood there, his arms crossed, his dark face locked in a pugnacious glare.

  “I was watching. I thought you’d come back to this place. I’m supposed to parley with you,” the alpha said, his voice a rumble, somewhere between speaking and growling. “But I would much rather slit your throat.”

  “Then we’re agreed on that,” Erik replied. “But there are things you need to know.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as the fact that with the exception of the fight against Loki, which I readily admit to, the Draugr raids on the faery settlements have been exclusively performed by the First.” He considered the fang, then held it out to him. “One of yours?”

  Ardrik looked at it, unimpressed. “It’s just a tooth.”

  “I have enough of my own.” He tossed the fang to the alpha, who caught it in midair.

  He pocketed the fang and said, “You’re telling me that these raids have all been done by rogue vampires.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  “And which side of the line are you on today? Seems you tiptoed all the way over to marauder not too long ago.”

  Erik flushed in shame. “There were extenuating circumstances.”

  The Ulfen snorted. “Oh, yes. Of course. You were enchanted.” His tone was mocking. “That’s a lame excuse, vampire.”

  “I don’t care what you think, shifter. It’s the truth.” He stepped closer, but stopped when they were still out of arm’s reach of one another. “I’m not proud of it, and I’ll make amends to the trolls if I can.”

  “They want you dead.”

  “That’s one thing they can’t have.” He squared his stance and held his hands at his sides, ready to act if he needed to. He realized with a sinking feeling that he did not have any of his arsenal with him; if there was to be a fight, it would be strictly hand-to-hand.

  “What are you proposing that I take back to the faery?” Ardrik asked. “Your assurances that your boys will stop? That won’t be good enough.”

  “My assurances that I will make them stop, and yes, that the raids will end. What more would they require?”

  “An end to the theft of faery blood for your bottles.”

  Erik nodded. “I can guarantee that will end with the First.”

  “And an end to all Draugr raids on faery settlements.”

  “I’ve already promised that.”

  Ardrik looked at him, his eyes hard. “And the Rune Master as our hostage until you complete your task.”

  Erik barked a humorless laugh. “Out of the question!”

  “Then the war continues,” the alpha told him, “and the next time I see you, it will be with my teeth in your throat.”

  “I can promise you that you have that backwards.”

  This time, it was the Ulfen who laughed. “Are we done here?”

  “Almost.” He paused to confirm that he meant was he was about to say, then continued. “The mastermind behind all of this is the Valtaeigr named Magda. She is the one conducting the bottling operation, and the one who has the most to gain from its continuance. She is using the First as her tools. She is the one you want.”

  “A Valtaeigr?” Ardrik sniffed. “Why would she do something like that?”

  “I suspect she’s part of the Dark Sisterhood.”

  The Ulfen sighed. “Why don’t you help out a poor, dumb wolf and tell me what that is.”

  “The Valtaeigr who serve Hel’s dark aspect are the Dark Sisterhood. They are the witches and the treacherous among the vala.”

  “You Draugr are so in love with your gods and your myths,” he said dismissively. “Your superstitions keep you in the Dark Ages.”

  “Says the creature who lives with his pack in a cave in the woods.”

  Ardrik’s face darkened with restrained anger. “You tell me this Magda person is behind this. Why should I believe you?”

  He shook his head. “I can’t say. That will be between you and your conscience.”

  “I have no conscience.”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  “You can’t tell me that you’re any different,” the Ulfen sniffed.