“Hold them,” Erik said, and jumped off the roof.

  Unlike the last time he’d done this, he was not poisoned with silver slugs in his guts, and he was able to fly again. He made a controlled landing on the sidewalk beside the Russian president. Now that he was closer, and now that he was seeing with his Draugr eyes, he realized that Holm was no human being at all.

  “Loki,” he said, seeing the hard, white kernel of energy in the center of the Nøkken host.

  “Thorvald!”

  Agnar, one of the three Draugr in the car, emerged with a pistol in his hand. A flash of rune fire from the roof struck him and knocked him backward, tumbling head over heels over the roofs of the parked vehicles. Erik smiled at Nika’s aim. Brevik lurched out of the car next, an automatic rifle in his hands. He was struck with another bolt of runic energy, and he, too, spun away.

  Erik pulled the hairspray from his pants pocket and grabbed a lighter with the other hand. He was just preparing to hit the false Holm with his makeshift flame thrower when a bullet crashed into his shoulder, knocking him sideways. It burned like silver.

  Dag stepped out of the car and into the street. In the distance, Erik could hear sirens, and he remembered that the rest of Stockholm was not paralyzed. They had to move quickly. He turned his back onto his former friend and ignited the hairspray, shooting Loki’s Nøkken vessel in the face.

  The creature was paralyzed and could not shift or try to run. It could not even scream. Erik almost felt bad about the way it was unable to do anything but burn… almost.

  Police cars entered the spell radius and swerved out of control as their drivers fell under the magic’s effects.

  Dag leaped on Erik, his feral teeth long and flashing. He buried them in the back of Erik’s head, simultaneously stabbing him in both sides, a silver dagger in each hand.

  Erik dropped the flame thrower and tried to grab Dag, but he was skewered too effectively to be able to twist or spin. Dag held on, pulling blood as fast as he could, intent on draining his former fellow. Erik reached his pistol, but with Dag holding on the way he was, there was no way he could shoot him without shooting himself, as well.

  He went down, silver inside of him in three places, and landed with his face toward the burning shifter.

  ***

  Nika saw the attack on Erik. She could practically feel it. She screamed, and her hold on the paralyzing spell wavered. The Draugr pets in the Huntsman unit broke free of its power and advanced on her fallen lover.

  She flung rune power at them, hitting Stenmark and the twins with her only two remaining offensive spells. The rest of her energy had been taken up in the main spell, and now she had nothing left to throw. They staggered from the blows but continued to advance.

  She bumped against Erik’s sniper rifle.

  She had never fired a gun in her life, let alone a powerful weapon like this one, but she was running out of options. She propped the muzzle up on its tripod and flung herself down onto her stomach the way she’d seen Erik doing. Below her, on the street, the Nøkken burned and Dag continued to drain Erik’s life force away.

  She shook with rage. She would not let him die.

  Her first shots went wildly off target, and she nearly screamed with frustration. Grinding her teeth, she tried again. She found a switch on the side of the gun that changed the fire rate, and she held down the trigger, spraying bullets into the SOG van and the Huntsmen.

  The bullets ripped into the Draugr pets, and spurts of blood erupted into the air. The bullets caught fire immediately, and one of the Jansen twins went down immediately, his forehead gone. The other twin abandoned his attack, wailing over his fallen brother. That left only Stenmark, who had pulled a silver-edged hatchet from somewhere and was advancing rapidly on Erik. She was just preparing to open fire again when Stenmark spun backward with a bullet in his brain that had come from behind him.

  Bengstrom stepped into view, a pistol in his hand. He fired once more into Stenmark’s head, then double-tapped the surviving Jansen twin. He stepped to Erik and put another bullet directly into Dag.

  Nika tried to find more energy to send another paralyzing spell, but she had nothing left to give. She was still too weak and new as a Draugr to fly. There was no way she could reach Erik unless she simply jumped.

  Given the choice between watching him die and a possible broken leg, she opted for breakage and jumped.

  Bengstrom was ill prepared for her descent. She landed hard beside Erik and grabbed Bengstrom’s arm, wrenching him away from her lover. She could hear a bone snap inside his shoulder, and it matched the one that had shattered in her leg. Her teeth were flashing and she flung him away.

  “Nika,” Erik managed to say. “The knives…”

  She pulled the daggers out of Erik’s sides, and he sagged in relief. Bengstrom approached cautiously, holding up his good hand.

  “He called you Nika. Are you Nika Graves?”

  She hissed at him, her human side completely subsumed by the vampire. He did not come closer.

  “Nika, I am a friend.”

  She bent over Erik and helped him to his feet. Police officers and other humans were running in from the outer edges of the spell, and she was no longer maintaining it. The hold the magic had was beginning to weaken.

  “We have to get out of here,” she told Erik. He nodded.

  Bengstrom came to her and helped her carry him. She growled warningly, but he ignored her. With a common effort, the three wounded Draugr made it to the SOG van, and Bengstrom drove away at top speed, roaring away from the conference center.

  Epilogue

  They ditched the van about two miles to the east and stole an unremarkable sedan. Bengstrom continued to drive until they reached Ingrid’s little house by the shore. The old woman helped them inside and opened the root cellar, where a cask of dreyri waited. The three vampires settled down around it and drank it nearly dry, fueling their healing and recovery.

  They stayed at Ingrid’s house for days, waiting until the furor over the attack on the summit died away. Somehow, the old woman retrieved the Book of Odin and returned it to Nika. When she was asked how she had done it, she only smiled.

  Nika cut the bullet out of Erik’s shoulder while Ingrid splinted both Nika’s leg and Bengstrom’s arm. She left them to the dreyri and their conversation.

  “When did you turn?” Erik asked his friend.

  “Just after your team was killed,” he said. “I was approached by a woman who said she was your friend, someone who said that you would need a proper team again. She offered me the power, and I took it.”

  “What was her name?”

  “She said her name was Sif.”

  Nika’s jaw dropped. “Magda’s bodyguard?”

  Bengstrom shrugged, and Erik chuckled. He raised the mug he was using to drink the dreyri and held it up.

  “Here’s to old friends and unexpected rescues,” he said. He looked at Nika. “And to old loves made new.”

  Nika smiled. “Skål.”

  And then they kissed for a very long time.

  *****

  THE END

  Rune Hunter

  Rune Series Book 3

  By:

  Amelia Wilson / J. A. Cummings

  CONTENTS

  Invitation From The Author

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Rune Series Other Books

  About The Author

  Note From The Author

  Copyright © 2017 by Amelia Wilson/J.A. Cummings

  All rights reserved.

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited, and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

  Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

  Invitation From The Author

  I am currently recruiting readers for my review team.

  If you would like to participate by volunteering to read advance copies of my latest books, and leaving an honest review on Amazon, please sign up for my email list here: JOIN NOW! I contact subscribers through email when each book is ready for review. You will be under no obligation, and can accept of decline on a book by book basis.

  ∞ Amelia ∞

  Prologue

  Summer had come to Sweden, bringing warmer days and the days of the midnight sun. The wildflowers bloomed and gave their scents to the warming breeze coming in from the sea, intertwining with the salt and the water to create a natural perfume. It was idyllic.

  In the depths of the forest, a council was underway. A campsite that was normally used by humans had been reserved for the event, and a wall of illusion had been put up around it to conceal the happenings inside. The faery had gathered from all around Scandinavia, something they normally did not do, but the events of the winter had made it imperative.

  Ardrik, the Ulfen chieftain, stood in the center of the meeting ground. Around him were arrayed trolls, with their hairy heads and hulking bodies, and the Nøkken, rightly angry. A trio of the Huldra sat together, their comely faces and shapely bodies nearly entwined, throwing sexual tension into the mix because they simply could not contain themselves. There were nisse and tomte, sensed more than seen, and a bevy of witches complaining bitterly to one another about the actions of their sister, the Aesir vessel and witch Ingrid Nilsson.

  Ardrik believed that there had never been an assembly like this one, and for a good reason. The faery creatures were too chaotic to accept an order for long, something that made his people, the wolf shifters, eschew their company. It was best, he thought, to get this meeting underway before everything got out of control. Already there were hungry looks from one of the Vittra to the youngest of the Mara, and the mylings were beginning to cry. It was time to get started.

  “My friends,” he said, raising his voice as only an Ulfen could. The raucous gathering fell quiet, and he heard only the whisper of the wind in the trees. “We are gathered because of the affront of the Draugr to our kind.”

  The leader of the Nøkken rose. “They killed my brother! Our king, who carried the soul of Loki! They burned him!”

  A chorus of anger and calls for retribution rose. Ardrik held up one of his hands and allowed a half-shift, his hand elongating and claws growing from his fingertips. “Yes. Your brother Sigurd was slain by the Draugr Rune Master and her Huntsman.”

  “Two Huntsmen,” one of the Huldra objected, her cow’s tail whipping in the open, crumpling her skirt. “We had been told that only one remained, but there were two.”

  One of the elves waved his hand dismissively. “The second one is of no concern. He is newly turned, and he is no vessel.”

  Ardrik asked, “Though the death of the Nøkken leader is a great pity, it is only one murder, and from what I have heard, he had it coming. Have there been other actions by the Draugr? Speak.”

  One of the Mara complained, “They have been harvesting our blood against our will.” The crowd grumbled in anger. “They kidnap us and drain us for their evil tastes.”

  Ebba, the most powerful of the trollkona, rose. “They went into one of our villages and destroyed all of the trolls living there. Trolls, trollkona, even our children – all put to flame.”

  Again, there was a wild outcry of rage. In the midst of the cacophony, the Nøkken chieftain roared, “They have begun a war against the faery! I demand justice!”

  The eldest Mara rose, her black hair wild around her emaciated shoulders, pooling like shadows on the white fabric of the nightgown that she wore. “The Ulfen are our soldiers. Will you rise? Will you protect us against these attacks by the vampires?”

  Ardrik looked at his contingent, including his three eldest sons. They dropped to all fours and transformed, their huge wolf-forms quivering in anticipation of the order. He made his decision.

  “We rise. Let this be war!”

  Chapter One

  Nika woke to the gentle sound of a summer rain against the window pane and the warm security of Erik’s arm looped around her waist. She was lying on her back, and beside her, his head sharing her pillow, he was sleeping on his side, his arm flung across her with the sort of protective possession that he always showed.

  She looked into his face, taking in the tousled blond hair and the pale perfection of his skin. He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. His lips were ever so slightly pink and his nose was perfectly straight. With his eyes closed, his golden lashes spread out against his cheeks. His fine, high forehead was unlined, and he looked like an angel. Unable to resist, she kissed him.

  The first kiss went unnoticed, but the second brought the barest opening of his lips and a sigh of contentment. She smiled and let him sleep.

  The windows were speckled with moisture, and the morning light was filtered through rain clouds blowing in from the east. From where she was lying, she could look out the window and see the choppy grey sea, the whitecaps cresting toward the rocky shore. Sea birds wheeled overhead, and she could see boats on the water as the village fishermen went out in search of herring.

  Their lives had been quiet since New Year’s, when Erik had purchased this cottage on the island of Mellerstön, extending out into the Bay of Bothnia. Theirs was the only house on the island, and if they wanted to reach civilization, then they had to take a boat to the mainland. The nearest big town – if you could call a city of 23,000 people “big” – was Piteå, where they obtained their groceries and picked up the shipments of dreyri that Sif sent them from Stockholm. Their isolation was splendid and complete, leaving them with nothing but nature and each other.

  In this quiet place, they lived as Erik might have lived before he was cursed, with a few exceptions. Nika was modern enough to require electricity and indoor plumbing, and he complied with her wishes. Their cottage was thoroughly modern in amenities, with a massive generator that Erik and Lars Bengstrom had hooked up in early January. There was a stable with two horses, a boat house and their boat, and a satellite dish so that Nika could still make contact with the world at large via cell phone and computer. It was perfection.

  Ostensibly, she was here working on a book about Viking history. Her employers at the Royal Museum of Stockholm had given her a twelve-month sabbatical to do her research. She was halfway through that span of time and hadn’t committed a single word to paper. She had been too busy enjoying her new life with her man.

  Erik stirred beside her, pulling her closer, his hand cool against her stomach through the thin fabric of her night gown. She put her hand over his, marveling not for the first time how large his hands were compared to hers. Erik was a big man, strong and capable, but he was also loving and gentle. She had seen all sides of him in the time they had been together.

  She held up her palm and brought forth rune power, something that came easier to her every day. She let a series of tiny runes dance along her skin. She pressed the runes to his hand, and he inhaled sharply at the unexpected prickly sensation as the glowing runes raced up his muscular arm. She grinned as he opened his eyes.

  “No fair,” he murmured, still half asleep.

  Nika kissed him. “All’s fair in love and war.”

  “Not runes. Runes aren’t fair.” She kissed the tip of his nose and ended her magical caress. He smiled and opened his bright blue eyes. “You didn’t have to stop.”

  “I thought you said it wasn’t fair.”

  “I did, but I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

  There was mischief in his eyes, and she laughed. “You always wake up happy.”

  “Why shouldn’t I?” He kissed her neck. “Look who I have in my bed.”

  “Hmm, and I thought I was the lucky one.”

  Erik smiled. “You can keep thinking that all you like. Don’t stop on my account.”

  She snuggled in against him. “So…I was thinking maybe we could go into Piteå, do some shopping… maybe eat out…”

  “We don’t need anything, do we?”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Bored?”

  “No.”

  He sat up a bit and looked into her eyes, clearly puzzled. “Then what’s the occasion?”

  She put her arms around his neck. “Seven months ago today was the day we met in America.”

  He kissed her, then broke into a smile. “Our souls have known each other for over a thousand years, and you’re excited about seven months?”

  Unperturbed, she answered happily, “Yes.”

  He chuckled. “You’re adorable.”

  They kissed again, and he moved away, sliding out from under the covers. The blankets fell away to reveal his well-built frame, the view unhindered by clothing. She wholeheartedly approved. As he walked toward the bathroom, she enjoyed the sight of his muscles flexing beneath his fair skin. He could make fitness models weep with envy.

  As he walked, ignoring that fact that he was providing her with a feast for the eyes, he said, “When you get older as a Draugr, you’ll have a completely different perspective on time.”

  “Maybe,” she allowed, “but this is my perspective now.”

  She got out of bed and followed him into the bathroom. He was turning on the shower, testing the water temperature with one hand, facing the door with a grin. He’d known she would come in.