Such a slippery slope, he thought. You fall and never realize it until you’re at the bottom of the hill.

  “Magda,” he said suddenly. “Where do you get the base material for the dreyri that you sell?”

  He didn’t say the word blood out loud, because the driver was still eavesdropping.

  His companion looked at him, surprised and annoyed by the question. “From appropriate sources.”

  “What is an appropriate source? And how many of those ‘appropriate sources’ did you have to use to fill the keg back at the house?”

  She gave him a hard look, and for a moment, he thought she wasn’t going to answer. Finally, she said, “Don’t worry your pretty head about it, Huntsman. Just keep drinking it like you always have and never mind my sources.” She looked away. “You’ve never cared before.”

  He felt vaguely sickened. “It never occurred to me to ask before.”

  “Slow, aren’t you?”

  “Apparently.”

  They rode to the airport without another word, and when they boarded the plane, Magda curled up beneath a blanket and watched out the window instead of acknowledging him in the other seat. He fiddled with his phone, playing a mindless app while letting his mind wander.

  The Ulfen were an enemy to take seriously, and he would have liked to have avoided their involvement. The faery must have been severely aggrieved to have involved them, since deals with the Ulfen always came at a high price. Their alpha, Ardrik, had a reputation as a shrewd negotiator, and he had an eye toward improving his pack like a general improved his stockpile. Erik wondered what price the canny wolf had asked for his pack’s protection.

  The landing in Stockholm was smooth and untroubled, and they found a cab easily. On the ride to Snake Eyes, Magda finally spoke again.

  “Forty-seven humans are exsanguinated for each barrel of dreyri that I create. That means twenty-four for kegs the size of the one in the cabin. I get the blood from a supplier. I don’t ask where it comes from before that.”

  “Who is your supplier?”

  Magda pursed her lips. “Some secrets, Huntsman, are not for you to know.”

  He considered himself foolish for never having asked these questions before. He had always assumed that the blood came from willing donors, but the mathematics of scale begged the question of how many people would have been required, and how many human beings had died, creatures that he and the rest of the Veithimathr had been sworn to protect.

  The Veithimathr had been created in the same year that the first dreyri began to circulate among the Draugr. The gods, and the vala, acted in mysterious ways.

  Magda had been the apprentice to the vala who had bewitched Erik and his brothers, making them into Huntsmen. She had been at the elbow of Inga, the wise woman who had created the potion that allowed the old gods to take up residence in new bodies. She had seen and learned everything in her many centuries of existence, and she knew things that he would never hope to understand. The ways of the vala were the ways of women, and men were not to know them.

  Nika, though, could learn.

  He looked out the window and endeavored to keep his body language casual, despite the ringing of his own pulse in his ears. He was on to something important here.

  “The Veithimathr have almost all been destroyed,” he began.

  “Yes, I know,” Magda said sharply. “Good job, there.”

  He rankled but refused to rise to the bait. She knew how to push his buttons. “I was wondering… how have the Valtaeigr been doing? How are your numbers?”

  She sighed. “Decreasing.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, those of us who are immortal cannot bear children to normal men, and as you know, Draugr are infertile. That leaves us very few options as mates. Our numbers decrease the old-fashioned way – the old ones die, and not enough new ones are born. We are forced to rely on reincarnation and try to find the souls when they return. It is easier said than done.”

  He nodded. “The same is true of vessels. The gods’ souls attach, but then scatter when rebirth happens. The vessels need to find one another again. They’re not always reborn in the same place.”

  “Yes.”

  “When you find newborn Valtaeigr, what do you do?”

  She shifted in her seat. “Not your business, Huntsman.”

  “Perhaps not, but my Chosen is Valtaeigr…”

  Magda interrupted, “She will be trained.”

  “By whom?”

  “Well, it started with Ingrid, didn’t it? She just needs to go back, if you’ll let her. You seem to be spending a lot of time distracting her.”

  Erik felt foolishly complimented by the comment. “Well…it’s her choice.”

  “She needs to be trained. We need as many valas as we can get.” She looked at him, finally, with a serious expression. “Sif is going to talk to her while we’re gone. Your Chosen may be taken from you, Huntsman.”

  “I have no trouble with her being trained, but if you try to take her from me, you will have a fight on your hands,” he warned.

  Magda smiled and shrugged. “I’m not concerned.”

  The cab parked outside the club, and Erik paid the tab while Magda strolled to the doors. She punched the code into the electronic lock, then let it scan her thumbprint. The door lock opened with a click.

  “Very high tech,” he said, approving.

  “It’s a very modern facility,” she said, opening the door. “Try not to break it.”

  “I can’t promise anything.”

  He followed her inside and sat at the bar while she went through the process of turning on the lights and waking up the HVAC system. He helped himself to a bottle of her finest vintage of dreyri, one of the ones on the top shelf. She went by him with a click of her tongue as she went to check the back door.

  “You’re paying for that.”

  He took a gold piece from the reign of Harald Hardrada out of his jeans pocket and put it down on counter with a click. “Good enough for three bottles?”

  “It’ll do.”

  “Four?”

  “Don’t push me.”

  He laughed.

  Sunset was a long way off, and there was money to be made. Magda opened the doors, and soon a few young Draugr trickled in. He moved from the bar to a corner table, where he could drink and watch the entire room without obstruction. A newly-turned Draugr male came in, stealing furtive glances at Erik when he sensed the power of one of the First. He was skinny and dark-haired, with a gaunt face and a hipster man bun. He carefully avoided making eye contact.

  Erik shook his head and sipped his dreyri. That young one was not destined to last for long.

  As the day wore on, more Draugr came and went. Some brought their mortal hangers-on, lovers or friends or possibly blood slaves. They came, danced, and drank, and all of them gave Erik’s table a wide berth. He didn’t mind.

  He drank his way through all three bottles of ancient dreyri, enjoying the tingle of the magic on his tongue and the way it burned in his throat. He savored the taste, his mind turning back to the question of Magda’s sources, and he tried to determine if there was any faery blood in the mix. He could not tell.

  He looked at his watch. Still three hours to go until nightfall.

  Chapter Five

  Nika sat on her bed with the Book of Odin on her lap, reading through the pages she could decipher. Learning how to wield rune magic was an ongoing project, and she doubted she would ever be finished with her studies.

  Sif knocked on the open door, and Nika greeted her with a smile.

  “Come in,” she said.

  Sif sat beside her, curling her long legs up beneath her on the mattress. The statuesque blonde moved like a cat, all sinew and muscle beneath a beautiful exterior. Nika was intimidated by her, although she would never have admitted it.

  “Are you learning much, young one?” Sif asked.

  Nika turned a page. “This book is full of things to learn. I will be learning from it every day of my life, I think.”

  Sif chuckled. “That is a lot of days. You are immortal now, after all.” She ran her hand through her own thick hair, pushing it back over her shoulder. She rarely wore it down. “Tell me, would you like to learn more than the things that are in that book?”

  “I love learning,” she answered honestly. “Of course I would. Are there other books like this?”

  “Odin is not the only god to make a record of his magic,” she said. “In fact, I know where there is a library full of books just like this. Would you like to know where it is? Perhaps you could visit it one day, when you are done playing with your Huntsman.”

  Nika raised an eyebrow and looked at her. Sif was sitting very close to her, almost uncomfortably so. “You have your own Huntsman to play with, I thought.”

  “Lars?” She chuckled. “He is a pleasant distraction, and I turned him, yes, but he is no Huntsman. Only one of those men remain. Only a Huntsman is worthy of a Valtaeigr. Lars is temporary at best. A hobby, if you will.”

  She closed the book and rose, putting a little distance between the two of them. “I’m sorry to tell you that the only remaining Huntsman is spoken for, then.” She put the book on the dresser, then said, “No, actually, I’m not sorry to tell you that. Not sorry at all.”

  Sif laughed throatily. “You are an amusing child.”

  Nika rankled. “Thank you, I think.”

  “You haven’t said whether you would want to see this library.”

  “I would be interested,” she said warily, “If Erik were to bring me there.”

  “Erik doesn’t know where it is. That is a Valtaeigr secret.”

  “And you’d be willing to show me, I take it?”

  Sif chuckled again. “I would be happy to show you many things.”

  She felt hunted. Nika turned suspicious eyes onto the other Draugr woman and said, “What are you doing, Sif?”

  Her response was a clear, bell-like laugh. She uncurled her body and rose from the mattress. “Just making conversation, little one. You are so untrusting.”

  Sif went back down the stairs, and Nika could hear Lars’ voice in the living room, as clear as if he were in the room with her. There were benefits to having Draugr hearing. “Where have you been?”

  “Chatting with Nika.” She heard a shift of furniture cushions; either Lars had stood up, or Sif had sat down. “She’s a bookworm.”

  She stopped eavesdropping and pulled on her boots. She was suddenly feeling very confined in this house and needed to get some fresh air. She went down the stairs and into the kitchen, intent upon getting a little dreyri to start her night.

  The keg was missing. The counter where the thing had stood was bare, and there were no cupboards large enough to hold it. She went into the living room, where Sif and Lars were sitting, his head in her lap. They looked up at her when she came in.

  “Where is the dreyri?” she asked.

  “Oh, it’s gone,” Sif said. “We drank it all.”

  “All of it? But…”

  She smiled, her teeth showing. “We’ve been very thirsty.”

  Lars said, “It was gone when I got up this morning. That’s why Magda went with Erik - she’s going to get more and bring it back.”

  Nika very much doubted the story. Even at their thirstiest, the five of them could not have consumed thirty-one gallons of blood in such a short amount of time. Even Erik, who was the heaviest drinker of them all, never had that much. She looked at Sif, who was smiling blandly and innocently at her.

  “If you’re thirsty,” Sif said, her voice light, “I guess you’ll have to go hunting.”

  Lars started to sit up, but Sif put her hand on his shoulder, pressing him back down. He looked surprised, as if this was the first time he’d realized that his girlfriend was physically stronger than him.

  Nika put on her jacket. “Fine. I’ll be back.”

  Lars objected, “There might be Ulfen.”

  “I guess I’ll have to take that chance.” She looked at Sif, the two of them measuring each other. Something very unpleasant was going on.

  “Have fun,” the other woman said, her tone airy and false.

  “Sif -”

  She silenced his burgeoning objection with a kiss, still holding him in place. Nika said, “Leave him alone, Sif. You’re threatening him.”

  Sif looked up, surprised. “Why would I threaten my own lover?”

  Lars said, “Let me up.” She allowed it this time, and he sprang to his feet. To Nika, he said, “I’m going with you.”

  “Don’t leave,” Sif said, and her tone was one of command.

  The former SOG officer looked at her without a word, then opened the door for Nika. She walked out, and he followed close behind, shutting the door on Sif’s objections.

  They walked down the path toward the hotel, keeping their silence for several moments. Finally, Nika said, “She’s up to something.”

  “Yes. Both she and Magda. I don’t trust them.”

  She looked at him, surprised. “But you sleep with them.”

  “Of course I do. Have you seen them?” He smiled. “That’s just sex, Nika. Trust is something entirely different. I trust very few people in this world.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  He looked at her, almost as if he were deciding on his answer. “Yes. I trust you. And I trust Erik. Those two? Not a chance.”

  They continued walking, and just before they reached the building, she said, “You must have found it difficult to believe what he was, when you were told.”

  He thought back. “Not really. You learn a lot of secrets when you’re in Special Forces, and some of the things I’ve learned about certain elected officials pale when they’re compared with being an honorable man who happens to drink blood to survive.” He glanced at her. “It must have been harder for you.”

  “No,” she admitted. “It was actually surprisingly easy.”

  “Well, you’re one of the wise women, and a vessel to boot. You probably always knew, subconsciously.” He opened the door to the hotel lobby and held it for her. “Ladies first.”

  They walked together to the bar, where Erik and Nika had encountered Valtteri. She glanced around to see if he was there, but the young Finn was nowhere to be seen. She was relieved.

  Lars escorted her to a corner table, and they sat together, looking out over the assembled mortals. The night was still young, so there weren’t many people yet, but there was enough of a crowd to make for interesting people-watching.

  At the far side of the bar room, in the corner booth diametrically opposite their own, a dark-haired man with a high-planed face sat brooding, his large hands cupped around a mug of coffee. He was exotic and beautiful, with an air of other places and other times about him, a sort of cloud of mystery that clung to him. Nika had never seen a man like him before.

  “Who is that?”

  Lars looked. “I don’t know. Some guy.”

  “Don’t you think there’s something...different… about him?”

  Her companion looked, and shrugged. “He’s a tourist, probably.”

  She fell silent, keeping her suppositions to herself. She could not deny the way this strange man shimmered in her mind. She wondered if she was seeing him with senses that Lars did not share, and that thought was strangely appealing. She rose.

  “I’m going to go say hello.”

  Lars sat back. “If you want.”

  She walked across the room, aware that Lars was keeping an eye on her movements. He was acting as her bodyguard, she supposed, and the knowledge that he was there to keep her safe made her feel bold.

  The man at the table looked up at her when she approached, his eyes an almost impossible golden-brown, rimmed with the longest, blackest lashes she had ever seen. His body, wrapped in tight denim and a black leather jacket, was the body of an athlete, and a tattoo sleeve peeked out from beneath his right cuff. She smiled at him, and he looked at her almost warily.

  “Hi,” she said in English. “Is this seat taken?”

  He glanced at Lars, then responded in the same tongue, mildly accented. “No. Please sit down.”

  She slid into the booth with him, taking up a position across from him, her back to Lars. Her new companion could see the other Draugr over her shoulder, and he spent as much time looking at him as he spent looking at Nika. She wanted to change that.

  “I’m Nika,” she said, offering her hand.

  “Dominic.” He accepted the friendly greeting, albeit stiffly.

  “You’re not Finnish.”

  He shook his head. “Not entirely. My father is.” He sipped his coffee, his movement slow and deliberate. “You’re American.”

  “Yes.” She crossed her legs and leaned back, letting one scarlet curl fall over her shoulder to land on her breast. He watched the motion of the fall, and his eyes stayed for a moment. She smiled. “What brings you to Oulu?”

  He dragged his gaze back up to her face. She could feel its weight almost physically. “My family is visiting the resort,” he told her. “My father wanted us to come, so here we are.”

  He smelled of fir trees and cold air. It was an enticing scent. Now that she was closer to him, she could get a better reading on the energy that swirled around him. He wasn’t Draugr, but he certainly was no human. She reached out a tentative finger of energy, intending to stroke his aura to gain a better sense of him.

  To her surprise, the seeking tendril was batted away by one of his own. She started at the snap of it, and he frowned.

  “That was rude,” he scolded her.

  “I just… I wondered…”

  “I am not your next meal, vampire,” he growled. He rose and tossed some money onto the table.

  She said, surprising herself, “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

  He pulled down the collar of his white T-shirt, exposing a keloid scar on the side of his neck, ragged and painful-looking. “Yes, I do.” His eyes turned even more golden, and the hand holding his collar lengthened and changed before her eyes. His fingers were curled, but she could see a long claw growing on his thumb, and the dark hair sprouting on his skin confirmed her guess.