“That’s one way to slow them down, but no. You decapitate them.” He put his axe into the holster on his back in one practiced move, seating it without fumbling for the loops. He had been doing this for years. “A stake to the heart will paralyze them, too, but it has to be wood. Metal – unless it’s silver or silver-coated – won’t do the trick. Stone won’t do the job. Wood only. Any kind of wood.”

  Aron scratched his chin. “Holy water?”

  “That’ll only make him wet.”

  “Wolf’s bane?”

  Erik shook his head. “That’s a good poison for werewolves and shifters, but not Draugr.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “There are only three ways to kill a Draugr: wood through the heart, decapitation, and immolation.”

  “Immo… what?” Ulf asked.

  “Immolation. It’s a fancy word for burning them to death.”

  Stenmark loaded his silver bullets into his pistol and sighted down the barrel, almost but not quite at Erik. His captain glowered.

  “Remember your fire discipline, and – I can’t believe I have to tell professional assassins this – don’t point a gun at someone unless you’re ready to use it.”

  Stenmark smiled at him over the sights. “I’m not.”

  Ulf kicked his comrade in the ankle, and Stenmark put the gun down. Erik walked over to him and got up in his face, their noses only inches apart.

  “I don’t know where you came from or why you of all people were selected for this job. I don’t know why Kommendör Holm thought using the Red Hand was a good idea. Let me tell you this: if you disrespect me one more time, or point that gun at me, or make one more threat, I will not hesitate to beat the shit out of you. Do you understand me?”

  Infuriatingly, Stenmark laughed in Erik’s face. The Draugr brought out his fangs and the green vampire lights in his eyes, and he grabbed the man’s throat in a hand bristling with claws. Stenmark blinked and scrabbled at Erik’s hand, choking. Aron took a step toward him, but Erik pointed a warning finger at him with his free hand, and the twin stopped short.

  “Do you understand me?”

  “Yes!” he managed to gasp out.

  Erik released him with a shove. “You’re on notice, Stenmark.”

  The ex-con stumbled and glared at Erik, massaging the bruises on his throat. “Yes, sir.”

  They stared at each other with withering spite for a long moment, and then Erik said to the team in general, gesturing to the targets on the range, “All right. Now show me what you’ve got.”

  ***

  Just after the museum closed for the night, Nika met Amari in the vestibule. He greeted her with a warm smile and offered her his arm.

  “Shall we?”

  She accepted his offer, and they walked together to the professor’s car. It was a shiny new Mercedes, equipped with all of the very best bells and whistles. She settled into the passenger seat and told him, “Nice car.”

  He grinned. “Thank you.” As he drove, he said, “I managed to get us reservations at a very exclusive restaurant tonight. A friend had reservations that he couldn’t use, so he’s allowing us to take them instead.”

  “That’s very kind of him,” she said.

  Amari chucked. “Well, he owes me.”

  There was something ominous about that comment, but she chose to let it go.

  “I’ve been thinking about our friend Fenrir,” she said.

  “Oh?”

  “I wonder if perhaps his deformity marked him as spiritually significant. Maybe that was why he was accorded such a rich burial.”

  He considered for a moment, and then said, “It’s certainly possible. It wouldn’t be the first time that something like that happened. The only problem with that theory is that there were no artifacts of a spiritual nature with him. If he’d been marked as chosen by the gods, there should have been some sort of priestly accoutrements.” He glanced at her and smirked. “Actually, I have a different theory.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I think he was a werewolf.”

  Nika laughed. “A werewolf? Seriously?”

  He chuckled. “They might have thought he was one. There are numerous tales of wolf shifters called the Ulfen. Have you heard them?”

  “No,” she confessed. “I’m not really well informed about the region’s folklore. I just concentrated on the history and mythology.”

  They arrived at the restaurant, a busy and manifestly trendy place. Amari left his car with the valet and escorted her to the greeting stand, where he gave his friend’s name. “Sigurd Odinsson,” he said, smiling his most charming smile.

  The hostess consulted her reservation book and nodded. “Excellent. Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Odinsson. Please come this way.”

  Nika glanced at Amari, and he chuckled at the assumption. “After you.”

  They were shown to a lovely corner booth, one obviously designed for couples. There was only one bench, and they were obliged to sit side by side. He sat close to her, his shoulder brushing hers. She shifted slightly and opened more space between them.

  The menu was filled with self-consciously artistic dishes and Swedish specialties, including horse tartar, which horrified her. She could not imagine eating horse meat. When the server came, Amari ordered wine and an appetizer of fruit and cheese.

  “You’re very sure of yourself,” she said, smiling. “What if I don’t want to drink with dinner?”

  “You’re a sophisticated woman, Miss Graves. I can hardly imagine you drinking anything but wine with dinner.”

  The wine steward brought a bottle of a fine, old vintage, and Amari smelled the proffered cork. He nodded his acceptance, and the steward poured two glasses of deep burgundy red. Amari held up his glass.

  “To new friends and old things made new,” he said.

  “Cheers.”

  They clicked their glasses together, then drank. The wine was very fine, and it tingled on her tongue. She liked the slight burn of it against her throat.

  “Delicious,” she said, smiling.

  He sipped his own drink, and then put it aside. “I noticed that you had flowers in your office. A gift from your beau?”

  “Yes.”

  “How thoughtful of him.”

  She smiled. “He’s a bit of a romantic.”

  “I find that romance is one of the requirements in life,” he said. “Without it, life is meaningless.”

  “You sound like you might be in love with love.”

  He nodded. “I do believe in love. I believe in its power, and I believe that it should be shared openly...with no limitations.”

  Their eyes met, and she was suddenly all too aware of the warmth of his body next to hers. There was a look in his eye that she could not describe, but it made her feel both threatened and enticed at the same time. She felt a tingle in her mind.

  “No limitations?” she echoed.

  “None. If we have desires, we should submit to them. We should allow them to conquer us and overcome our rational objections.” He was still looking into her eyes, and she could not look away. “There is no need to be wanting just because your partner of choice is out of range. Friends can love as well as lovers.”

  Her palms were sweating. She was convinced that he was doing something to her will. It was difficult to resist him, with his perfectly kissable lips and dark, intelligent eyes. He was everything Erik was not. She found herself leaning closer, acting without knowing why.

  “Well, how lovely to see you again.”

  The intrusion of a familiar female voice shattered the spell, and Nika sat back, perplexed. Magda stood beside their table, her cell phone in her hand.

  “I got a really lovely photograph of the two of you just now,” she said. “You’re such a beautiful pair. I sent the photograph to Erik… I know how much he misses you.”

  Nika cleared her throat. “Hello, Magda.”

  Amari rose and offered his hand. “Rahim Amari,” he said by way of introduction.

  Magda looked at his hand and made no move to accept it. Behind her, Sif drifted into view, dressed in a black minidress accented with leather. She was a total contrast to Magda, who was all in white.

  Magda looked into Amari’s eyes, and one corner of her mouth turned down. She turned to Nika. “Careful, young one,” she said. “You are swimming in dangerous waters.”

  She turned and left their table, and Sif trailed along behind her. Amari sat down again, shaking his head. “What an odd woman.”

  Nika took a deep breath. She owed Magda a huge thank you. “She’s an associate of my partner’s,” she said. Her hands were shaking, and she gathered up her purse. “Thank you for the wine and the invitation, but I have to go.”

  He rose. “Miss Graves… Nika…”

  She hurried away, putting distance between them. She didn’t know what was happening to her.

  Chapter Eleven

  Erik hadn’t hunted in a long time.

  During his long wait for Berit’s return, he would stay behind while his men went out into the night to find companions and the blood that kept them whole. He had developed a system whereby every few days, he would take a pint of blood from the infirmary, warm it in a pan of water on the stove, and then drink it. It was stale, but there was still some latent life force there, and he found that if he did this every night, he stayed alive, even if he was not as strong as he could have been.

  The others drank dreyri at least once a day, as well, feeding on the magic in the enchantment as much as the blood. He had missed that power, and now that he had Berit back and could taste it again, he enjoyed it immensely. Still, he had not yet resumed hunting, even though he had his love back in his life, or perhaps because she was back in his life.

  When he was with Nika, he would wait until she was asleep, and then he would boil his bags of blood when she wouldn’t see. He disposed of the evidence carefully every time, careful that she wouldn’t find out. They hadn’t been together very long, so he had been able to hide his behavior, which was seen as shameful in Draugr circles. Not even Gunnar, his best friend and his true brother, had known how he fed.

  In the time when he and his team were in America, the base had begun a new computer cataloging system for their blood supply, no doubt because they had been misplacing so many pints along the way. The blood was now carefully monitored, and any theft he committed would be noticed immediately. His one avenue of harmlessness had been taken away.

  In a way, he was relieved. He had not enjoyed living like a thief. Indeed, thievery and heresy were the only two sins that his people had ever believed would gain him special punishment in the Halls of Hel. He was not looking forward to the pain that awaited him in the underworld after he finally died completely, at least until his soul was reborn to continue Vidar’s existence… Unless Vidar convinced Hel to allow him to attach to some other soul and leave Erik to his suffering. He supposed that was a possibility, too.

  The base hospital had the only blood bank in Karlsborg. His orders were that he could take liberty at night as far as the town, but that he had to be back in the barracks by dawn. His curfew ran several hours later than his team, who, by virtue of their prior occupations, had extremely limited freedoms.

  His team hated him, and he returned the sentiment. In the two weeks they had been training, he had learned that they were able enough with weapons, but their ability to work together was seriously impaired. He wasn’t certain he would be able to teach them enough about small group tactics to make them effective as a fighting force. He also wasn’t certain he would ever trust them at his back.

  He went to the exit from the based and showed his ID to the gate patrol. They waved him through, and he walked off of base property, headed toward town. His SOG insignia was clear to see, marking him as Special Forces, and the men at the gate had nothing to say about him until they thought he was out of earshot.

  “Freaking special forces,” one of them complained. “So many privileges.”

  “Well, that one’s a captain, so, yeah. He gets a lot of liberty that we don’t. It’s all about rank.”

  The third guard commented. “Honestly, with the risks those special ops guys take? They’re entitled to all the liberties they can get. I don’t mind.”

  The first spoke up, bitterly. “Sure, Lars. Be reasonable. I hate you.”

  Erik smirked and kept walking.

  The foot path to the town from the base wasn’t long, but it was well-traveled. The grass had been worn down to nothing, and the weather had turned the path into a muddy slog. He walked beside the path, familiar well enough with where he was going that he didn’t really need it to show him the way.

  He passed through the fence that marked the outer edge of base territory and continued down a hill toward the town. The lights in the houses and bars were glowing, and from where he was, he could sense that most the inhabitants were gathered in three distinct bars. The rest were scattered through the various dwellings, safe and off limits from the likes of him.

  Vampires, even the ones like him with supposedly good intentions, weren’t allowed into people’s homes without express invitations. It was why so much of their hunting and feeding took place in bars and taverns, in hotels and sometimes out in the open. In the old days, he had fed in places like livery stables and under piers. In the old days… Well, in the old days he hadn’t been quite as interested in asking permission as he was now.

  The first bar he came to was mostly filled with older folks. It was a working man’s drinking hole, with regular customers and people who knew one another. This was the sort of place where a serviceman was barely welcome, and where a vampire would go hungry. He skipped it in favor of greener pastures.

  He passed a brown house with a neatly terraced flower garden in the side yard. Inside, he could hear the television playing the evening news. Someone was cooking, and someone else was talking. It was all so normal, a glimpse into a life that had never been his and never would be. It was the life he was denying Nika.

  Sadness pressed in at him, and he pushed it away. There would be time to brood later. Nobody would be interested in feeding a sullen Draugr.

  The next bar was pulsing with hip hop music, and the lights were flashing like a kaleidoscope, spilling ever-shifting colors over the pavement when the door opened and closed. He wiped his boots on the sidewalk to rid himself of any excess mud from the footpath and went inside.

  Nobody turned to look when he came in. The room was packed full to bursting with young, bored people desperate for fun: soldiers from the base, young women from the town, and lost souls of every other description. There were no other Draugr in the house, and for that he was thankful. He wasn’t in the mood for a fight.

  Erik went to the bar and ordered an aquavit. The bartender, a middle-aged woman who had clearly seen plenty of nonsense in her day, poured it for him.

  “Here you go, Captain,” she said. “First one’s on the house.”

  He smiled at her. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it. Least I can do for SOG.”

  He raised the shot glass to her in salute, and then downed it in one swallow. It burned and twisted in his gut, but he kept it down without betraying his nausea. The things I do for my cover, he thought.

  A young blonde in a revealing blue dress sidled up to him. “Hej,” she greeted.

  “Hej,” he responded.

  “I’m Lina,” she said. “What’s your name?”

  “Erik.”

  “You alone?”

  He looked around the room, and then turned back to her with his most charming smile. “Looks like it.”

  She slipped her arm through his. “Lucky me.”

  “What are you drinking?”

  “Whatever you are.”

  I doubt that. He signaled the bartender for another round, and she supplied it. This time, she waited for him to pay up before she moved down the line. He handed her more cash than he needed. “Set up a tab,” he requested.

  “Sure thing, Captain.”

  Lina made a flirtatious move with her shoulder and wrinkled her pert nose at him. “Captain? Wow. That’s above the pay grade that usually comes in here.”

  “Pay grade?” He shook his head. “I’m not paying for anything but drinks tonight.”

  She scowled. “Fine.” In a huff, she stalked off in search of another customer.

  “Hey, Lina,” he called after her. She turned. “Don’t forget your drink.”

  She took the glass and cocked her elbow back, preparing to throw it in his face. He met her gaze and his eyes flared. “Don’t do that.”

  She hesitated, and then put the glass on the bar. “I won’t do that.”

  “Thank you.” He released the hold he had taken over her mind. He gestured toward the bar stool beside him. “Please don’t leave. I may not be buying the whole thing, but I wouldn’t mind some company.”

  Lina slid onto the stool and favored him with a smile. “You married?”

  “Yes.” Sort of.

  “Where is she?”

  “Back home in Stockholm.”

  “Must get lonely.”

  He nodded. “Yes, it does.”

  “If you ever need…”

  Erik smiled at her. What he needed she could provide, certainly, but it wasn’t what she was thinking. Still, one thing led to the other, and sex was often a means to an end. He doubted if Nika would understand that, though.

  “Thank you.”

  He was so bad at this. The years had left him rusty and awkward. Back in the old days, he would have just waited for someone to be walking alone in the dark. He would grab them, take them, and that would be it. Now it was so complicated.

  “Do you have kids?”

  He started to answer honestly, but switched it at the last minute. “No.”

  “Do you have any pictures of your wife?”

  He pulled out his cell phone and flipped through the images until he came up with a picture of Nika he’d taken in Central City. She was sitting on the couch, wreathed in sunlight like a halo, smiling at him with love in her eyes. He wanted to always remember her like that.

  He showed Lina, and she nodded. “She’s beautiful.”