“You’re Ulfen.”

  “Yes,” he growled, his voice deepened by his partial change. “And you are my enemy.”

  She put out a hand and stopped him before he could leave, aware that he would not attack her with so many mortal witnesses. “Why am I your enemy? What have I done to you?”

  He pulled away with a snarl. “Don’t lie to me. You know exactly what it was...Rune Master.”

  She watched as he stalked away, his wolf aspect pulling back and hiding once more beneath the beautiful human veneer.

  She was full of questions.

  ***

  Nika and Lars found a mortal woman in the hotel lobby who was open to their suggestions, and they fed from her together in her room upstairs. The way Lars fed was less sexual than Erik’s way, more animal and frightening. It left Nika feeling uncomfortable in the aftermath.

  They walked back to their cottage in the silent darkness, neither of them speaking, the taste of the blood they’d stolen still coppery on their tongues. The only sound was the crunch of their boots on the gravel path and an occasional rustle in the forest as a night bird took flight. Once she thought she heard a fluttering overhead, like the wings of a bat, but when she looked, there was nothing there.

  She wondered how Erik’s talk with the First was going, and whether the others had come to Snake Eyes after all. He had admitted to her that there was a chance they would stand him up. Her mind flashed to dangerous scenarios of the First lying in wait for him outside the bar, ready to ambush him, and she worried that he might be walking into a trap. She clenched her hands in the pockets of her coat, trying to force down the fear. Erik is strong and crafty, she told herself. He’ll be fine.

  He had nearly died not long ago when the SOG had filled him full of silver bullets. She shivered at the thought of facing eternity without him.

  Their path took them past the forest’s edge, and in the gloom beneath the trees, Nika thought she saw two pinpoints of amber light. As quickly as she had seen them, they were gone.

  “Lars,” she said. “There’s something in the woods.”

  He looked, but did not stop walking. He moved around her so that he was between her and the trees, protectively guarding her. A twig snapped somewhere close, and he pulled a pistol from an ankle holster.

  “Walk faster,” he told her. “Run if you have to.” He was staring into the trees, his face intense and frightening.

  “I’m not leaving you.”

  “I’m right behind you.”

  A dark shape moved in the shadows, and then a gigantic wolf burst from the forest, teeth flashing, its amber eyes glowing. It leaped onto Lars, who fired into its body. The wolf yelped, but the wound was only glancing, and it landed on the young Draugr with all four feet. Lars struggled against it, and the wolf’s gleaming fangs snapped, trying to grab his throat.

  Nika called on the rune magic inside of her and summoned a handful of golden energy. She threw it at the wolf, and the magic splashed against its side, setting its black fur on fire. The creature released Lars and dropped to the ground, rolling in the dirt to extinguish the flames. Lars staggered to his feet and emptied his gun into the wolf’s head.

  The silver bullets did their work, and the creature fell dead at his feet. Its body shifted from wolf to man as they watched.

  “Are you all right?” Nika asked.

  Lars nodded. “Yeah.” He bent down and examined the body. “So, this is an Ulfen.”

  “Yes, and there are probably more. Let’s go!”

  “We have to hide this body.”

  “Leave it. The others will take it.” She pulled on his arm. “We have to get to the house. We’re not safe out here.”

  He hesitated, then let her pull him toward the cabin.

  Chapter Six

  It was finally sunset, and Erik was growing impatient. He sat in his corner booth, watching the door, and all that came through were young Draugr and their hangers-on. They gave him a wide berth, clustering against the opposite wall, staying as far away from him as they could. He had to admit that he enjoyed their fear.

  Magda brought him a glass of dreyri, and he could feel the tingling of the powerful enchantment through his fingertips when he accepted it. He raised an eyebrow quizzically.

  “On the house,” she said. “Just testing a new vintage.”

  “Why would you give me anything?” he asked. “That’s not like you. What are the strings attached?”

  She smiled at him in manifestly counterfeit innocence. “No strings, Huntsman. Why would you ask me such a thing?”

  He watched as she walked away, heading back toward her office. She was up to something, but he had no idea what. He decided not to drink the dreyri, and he pushed the glass toward the center of the table.

  The door opened, and the effects of the magical ward shimmered through the room. The chatter of the younglings fell silent as the First arrived.

  Bjorn was the first one through the door. He was a mountain of a man, thick and muscular, with a wiry black beard and wild black hair. He was dressed unassumingly in denim and flannel, but there was no mistaking his power. His eyes already glowed green with the preternatural Draugr fire as he strode into the room. He scanned the faces until he saw Erik, and when he did, he smiled.

  Halvar and Kjeld came in next. It had been literally centuries since Erik had seen them. They looked as if they had kept up with the times, especially Kjeld, who was glued to a smartphone while he walked. Olaf followed them, his white blond hair a startling contrast to the black leather that he was wearing, complete with dog collar.

  The four approached him, grabbing chairs and joining him at his table. Several of the young ones, intimidated by the arrival of such powerful and aged vampires, scurried for the exit, beating a hasty retreat.

  Erik nodded to them. “Brothers,” he said.

  Bjorn snorted. “We have not been brothers for a very long time… brother.”

  “The others are coming,” Halvar said. “We should wait until they get here.”

  Kjeld put his phone away. “They’re about ten minutes away.” He sat in his chair and leaned back, his blue eyes narrowed as he studied Erik’s face. “I didn’t want to meet with you, Huntsman, not after the way you killed Ingmar.”

  “Ingmar was murdering humans and being lazy and messy about it. He was attracting attention that we don’t need.”

  Bjorn snorted again. It was an unattractive habit. “You were protecting the humans, not us.”

  Erik said firmly, “I protect both.”

  “By killing the other First?” Halvar asked. “Are you trying to make yourself the last man standing?”

  “That is not my intention.”

  The door opened and the ward sang again, and the three First who had been in Loki’s company at the summit arrived. Agnar, Brevik and Dag entered together. Agnar snarled at a young Draugr couple and appropriated their table and chairs. The three dragged them over to the conference and sat down.

  Dag spoke first. “I should be upset with you, Thorvald. You interrupted a very lucrative contract for us. Because of you, we didn’t get paid.”

  Agnar agreed. “A dead Nøkken is a Nøkken who doesn’t pay his bills.”

  He was unmoved. “Perhaps you should have better taste in clients. And I believe I have the right to be upset with you, too. Silver daggers don’t feel very nice.”

  Dag shrugged. “Neither do bullets to the head.”

  “Touché.”

  “I suppose I should be grateful that your little pet forgot to take my head.”

  Erik smiled. “Yes. You should.”

  Brevik crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. “Why did you call us here?”

  Dag was staring at the glass of dreyri on Erik’s table, his eyes beginning to glow with desire. Erik cupped his hands around the drink pulled it closer, letting the magic tingle in his palms, stating his ownership of the powerful liquid.

  “The faery are on the march.”

  Halvar threw his head back and laughed, a round, loud belly laugh that drew stares from the other denizens of Snake Eyes. Erik did not share his mirth and simply waited for him to be done. Finally, when he could speak again, Halvar said, “So the faery are marching. What does that matter to us?”

  “They have declared war on the Draugr, and they’ve gotten Ardrik’s pack to fight it.”

  Dag looked irritated. “Faery and Ulfen are nothing compared to us. We were chosen by the gods to live forever. We are more than they are. We are more powerful than they are.”

  “Perhaps,” Erik allowed. “The Ulfen are not to be taken lightly, not when they attack as a group. And a faery war can bring the attention of mankind down around our heads, and if that happens, I promise you, our world will burn and no gods will be able to save us then.”

  “I understand you, Thorvald,” Olaf said. “You betray us for the humans because you fear them. You are appeasing them.”

  “I have protected humanity because that is what the gods charged me to do when I became Veithimathr.” He did not miss the subtle insult, and he answered it. “I fear no one.”

  Brevik spoke next, his voice flat. “If the faery are marching, they will draw attention to themselves, not to us. We need only lay low and wait for the fighting to be over, just as we did back when the humans destroyed the last dragons.”

  “It won’t be that easy this time,” Erik warned.

  “Why not?” Bjorn demanded.

  “There are more humans now than in the dragon days, and everyone has a cellphone.” He gestured toward Kjeld. “Everybody carries a camera and a direct link with YouTube. Nothing happens in this world anymore without a witness.”

  “Then we kill the witnesses.”

  “Dead witnesses leave bodies,” Erik pointed out. “Dead bodies raise questions.”

  Bjorn gestured dismissively. “One of my turned younglings owns a crematorium in Oslo. We just take the bodies there. Humans go missing all the time, Thorvald. Always have, always will.”

  Erik was tiring of the argument. “I’m told that you’ve been raiding faery settlements. Why?”

  “Why not?” Halvar demanded. “Faery blood is powerful, and it fetches a nice price.”

  “If we can conquer them, then they are at our mercy,” Bjorn contributed. “This is how it has always been. Have you forgotten? You were a conqueror once, too.”

  Erik set his jaw. “I have learned that conquest is not always the best path forward.”

  “Spoken like a coward.”

  He leaped across the table at his former friend, and Bjorn met him halfway. Their clawed hands grasped at each other’s throats, and the table between them smashed into kindling. Erik and Bjorn, evenly matched, grappled in the wreckage.

  Halvar seized a large splinter of wood and raised it high, intending to bring it down into Erik’s unprotected back. A flash of spell fire knocked the improvised stake out of his hand, and he turned in disbelief to Magda, whose outstretched hand still sparkled with Valtaeigr power. She gestured with that glowing hand, and the shattered glass of dreyri that she had given to Erik reformed, the shattered pieces knitting back together, the enchanted blood flowing back into the glass. She opened her hand, and the glass floated into her grasp.

  Halvar hissed at her. “Valtaeigr bitch!”

  Erik finally gained the upper hand, straddling Bjorn and throttling him with his own collar. Bjorn bucked beneath him, but Erik stuck fast, squeezing until the other Draugr’s face went purple. He released him abruptly and stepped back, saying, “I am no coward.”

  The rest of his former brethren were staring at him, judging him. He needed to make a show of strength, and the shimmering in his peripheral vision from the dreyri that Magda had recovered gave him an idea of what to do. He knew that the others could sense the power in the drink as strongly as he could. He held out his hand, and Magda put the glass into it. He drained the glass in one gulp, the dreyri burning like fire as it coursed down his throat. His eyes swam, and stars flickered at the edges of his vision as the enchantment reached deep into his soul. He shuddered.

  Dag glared at Magda. “That was linnorm blood,” he accused. “You said it was gone.”

  “I saved a bottle for a special occasion.”

  Erik was reeling from the effect of the magic he had consumed, realizing too late that his forgotten caution had been well-advised. He staggered backward a step, and Magda approached him, her eyes boring into his. She was chanting.

  The words were nonsense, but they made every nerve explode like fireworks, and he shook from head to toe. She came right up to him and put her hands on his chest, stacking her palms directly over his heart. She looked into his eyes and finished her chant, sneering the last word and pushing her power into him. He dropped to the ground like a sack of coal.

  Bjorn, still gasping for air, looked down at his fallen foe. “What did you do to him?”

  The Valtaeigr smiled. “You’ll find out. Take him with you when you leave.” She turned to walk back toward her office, then stopped and said, “And you’re going to be paying for that table.”

  ***

  Nika had just settled back down on the bed with the book when she felt a horrible jolt surge through her. It was a lancing pain, and it made brilliant light flash behind her eyes. She gasped with the anguish of it and dropped the book, clutching her chest. Her heart felt as if it would explode, and every breath was agony. She tried to rise but her legs were like water, and she fell to the floor.

  The sound of her collapse rang through the house, and Lars and Sif came running. Sif knelt beside Nika and helped her sit up while Lars hovered uncertainly, completely out of his depth. “What’s wrong with her?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” Sif admitted. Nika leaned against the bed, and Sif cupped her face in her hands, her middle fingers pressing against her temples. She stared intently into Nika’s eyes. “The Chosen bond has been broken.”

  “What?” Nika gasped. “How?”

  Sif looked grim. “Either Erik has chosen to break it, or he has been killed.”

  Nika dissolved into wracking sobs. “No! No, no, no…he can’t be…”

  Lars grit his teeth. “Are you sure?”

  “That’s the only way a bond like that breaks.”

  Sif embraced Nika. She was howling in her grief, keening for her lost love. Tears streamed from her eyes, and they were tinged pink with blood. She gripped Sif’s arms like a lifeline and wept.

  Lars dialed a number on his cellphone, and all three of them could hear the other line ringing over and over. Erik’s voice mail picked up, and the sound of his recorded voice was like a knife through Nika’s heart.

  He turned off the phone and stalked away, leaving Nika to mourn in Sif’s arms.

  ***

  Lars went downstairs and picked up his phone again. This time, he dialed Magda. The ringing lasted nearly as long as it had with Erik’s number, but before voicemail picked up, she answered the call.

  “Hallå,” she said.

  “Magda, what’s going on?”

  He could hear her walking through a noisy room, then there was the sound of a door closing. She must have gone into her office. “The meeting with the First did not go well.”

  “What happened?” he demanded.

  “There was a fight, which I expected. Erik was outnumbered. He…” She sighed. “Lars, I’m sorry. Erik is gone.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut. “Who did it?”

  “I -”

  “Who did it?”

  There was a startled silence on the line, and then she said, “All of them. All of the First fell on him. I didn’t see who landed the final blow, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  He put his hand on his hip and lowered his head. “Are you coming back?”

  “Yes. I just have to get this place cleaned up first.”

  “Let Benny do it. That’s what you have a bartender for.”

  “I have a bartender to pour drinks, dear,” she said. “And I’ve got a full house tonight.”

  “Magda -”

  “I will be back soon. Don’t worry.”

  She hung up on him, and he looked at the phone in disbelief.

  His friend was dead.

  Chapter Seven

  She passed the rest of that night in stunned silence. The initial pain was gone, replaced by a bone-aching numbness that filled her with emptiness. Her lover was dead, and she could not accept it.

  Dawn came, then sunset, and dawn again. She stayed in her room, sitting at the window and staring out at the driveway, hoping against hope that she would see him coming back to her. He never came.

  Magda returned after three days, and Sif and Lars greeted her warmly. Nika could hear their voices in the living room downstairs. She leaned her forehead against the window pane, and a tear slid down her cheek, but she was too deeply in shock to notice.

  There was a soft knock on her door. Nika neither turned nor responded, so the knock was repeated. Finally, Magda opened the door and let herself inside without an invitation. She came to Nika and stood beside her, looking out the window at the woods below. They were both silent for a long while.

  “He died well,” she finally told her. “He was fighting like a tiger to the last.”

  Nika’s throat tightened. “Why did they attack him?”

  Magda sighed and sat on the bed. “The Veithimathr had made no friends in the Draugr community,” she explained. “For centuries, Erik and his brethren had hunted down and killed the First, along with any other vampire who stepped outside of their rule set. The other vampires had never agreed to live by those rules, though, so it was unjust. The Draugr all consider the Huntsmen to be traitors.”

  “He was no traitor,” she said softly.

  Magda continued as if she hadn’t heard her. “Now all of the Huntsmen are gone. It is the end of an era.” She put a hand on Nika’s shoulder. “I know someone who can help you, child. You’ve been left alone with almost no idea how to survive as a vampire. I can take you to one of our sisters, a Valtaeigr who was made into a vampire by her lover. She can guide you. Would you like that?”