Agnar moved from the chair he’d been occupying so that Erik could sit there instead, and he took the offered seat gratefully.

  Kjeld put his phone away. “How are you feeling, Erik?”

  “Like someone dropped a mountain on me.”

  “That’s what you get,” Dag said, “for drinking linnorm dreyri.”

  Erik frowned, confused. He had no memory of such a thing. “Linnorm blood?”

  A young woman with vivid red hair came into the room, joining them from another room down a short hallway. She looked familiar, but he could not say when they had met before. He should have known who she was. The woman had a shallow dish in her hand, and a pile of herbs smoldered there, the smoke dark and gray. She brought it toward him, her green eyes sparkling. A tattoo of the rune Hagalaz graced the inside of her left wrist, woad-blue against the white of her skin.

  “You’re Valtaeigr,” he said, stating the obvious.

  “Yes. You may call me Mia. I am the vessel of Lofn.” She raised the smoke toward him. “Breathe deeply. It will help to clear your head.”

  He could sense the divine energy within her, proof of her claim of vessel-dom. That, combined with her Valtaeigr bloodline, convinced him to trust her. He took the dish from her hand and inhaled the smoke, pulling it in as deeply as he could. The smell of pine and the hint of less wholesome ingredients filled him, and instead of clearing his head, it made it fuzzier. He handed the dish back to her.

  “No,” he said. “Not working.”

  Mia made him meet her eyes. When she spoke, her voice held a timber that trapped him and drilled directly into his mind. He could not have looked away if he had tried. “You are Erik Thorvald, leader of the First, and you are here with your brothers planning a raid on the faery of Finland. You have been their leader for centuries, and you lead them with an absolute hand. There is no violence that is beyond you, and nothing that you will not do for the greater glory of your band.”

  She smiled and sat back, and he blinked. The spell was broken, but the suggestion had been planted. He looked at the assembled First.

  “When do we raid?”

  ***

  Nika woke to a sky full of moonlight. The clouds shimmered like pearls across the face of the moon, and the forest beneath her window was bathed in silver. It was impossibly pretty, and she hated it.

  She sat on the edge of the bed and stared out the window, watching the trees sway in the light wind coming in off of the water. She thought of the house she shared with Erik, the way she’d been so excited to move in and make it theirs. Now it was standing empty, and she wasn’t sure she could ever go back.

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Lars was right. This was now how Erik would want her to be. He would want her to live, even if that meant living without him. He had been strong and had waited for her to be reborn across a hundred lifetimes. She owed it to him to do the same now.

  She wondered if it had hurt him as much as it hurt her now.

  A huge wolf emerged from the forest and sat just beneath the trees, its face turned up toward their cabin. She could almost sense its amber eyes boring into hers even through the window glass. She wondered if this was Dominic, the Ulfen she had met in the wood, but something told her that it was not.

  She rose and went closer to the window. The wolf looked directly at her, and then it shifted into a young man with reddish blond hair and a tight dancer’s build. He was fully dressed when he assumed his human guise, and she wondered where his clothing went when he became a wolf. The palm of her right hand tingled, and she glanced down to see a tiny, glowing rune there - Algiz, standing for protection. She shook the rune away and let its energy dissipate into the air.

  That was a warning, a voice whispered in her head. It was the quiet voice of Ithunn, the goddess in her pocket. Be careful whom you trust.

  She hesitated, momentarily forgetting the wolf outside the window. Do you know what happened to Erik?

  You will see him again, the goddess told her. It was no answer, but Nika could feel Ithunn fading back into her mind, going back to the quiet place where she sat and waited. Nika had no idea what she was waiting for, or why it still mattered all these years later, but she was sometimes grateful for the gentle presence in her head. This was one of those times.

  She looked back out the window, and the wolf was gone. She opened the window and leaned out, listening to the night sounds. There were the sounds of people at the hotel and in the town surrounding it, the rustling of the wind in the trees, and the quiet shuffling sounds of the nocturnal creatures moving through the brush. She suddenly wanted to be down there. She wanted to touch something alive and hold it in her hands.

  Nika went downstairs, pausing at the keg before continuing on without drinking. She could hear the mattress springs in the other bedroom, and she knew that Lars, Magda and Sif would never notice her absence. The thought was saddening and freeing at the same time.

  She left the cabin and walked toward the wood, stopping briefly where the wolf had stood. She bent to examine the bent blades of grass, plucking one to pick up the lupine scent the creature had left behind. Nika’s insides felt hot with contained rune magic, as if something inside of her was leaking the power to seep all through her body. She released some of it through her fingertip, letting the golden ray of sparkling runes envelop the blade of brass in her hand. It stiffened, limned with gold, then slowly softened again, humming quietly in her head. It would vibrate when a wolf was near, so now she would have ample warning if one of the Ulfen approached under its remarkable camouflage.

  The path through the forest was covered with wood chips, and they crunched beneath her feet as she walked. The blade of grass in her hand was still and soft, so she continued walking without fear. Above her head, a tiny bat fluttered past, and she had to chuckle at the Hollywood vampire movies she had seen. Here she was, a vampire, and she had no affinity for bats whatsoever.

  She walked for a long way, listening to the sounds of the wood, lost in thought. She finally came to a quiet spot where the brush was a little longer, and she stopped to take it in. There was an owl on the branch above her, staring at her with its great yellow eyes. Not far away, in a nest made of leaves, a family of squirrels slept, their body heat visible like a green shadow to her Draugr eyes.

  A mouse was running through the underbrush, shoving leaves and sticks aside as it foraged. She stopped and crouched, watching the little creature. In the museum in Central City, there had been a pair of antique gloves lined with mouse fur. It had been very soft and very warm, and she wondered how many mice it took to make a glove.

  She needed to get back to her life. She needed to go back to the house, and then to the museum in Stockholm, and try to put the pieces back together. She still could not believe that Erik was gone. The pain was less intense, buried beneath a layer of the numbness that came when a heart had hurt enough and couldn’t bear to hurt any more. The numbness was not entirely healthy, but it helped give her a break from grieving so she could think.

  The mouse bolted away, and too late, she realized that the blade of grass she held was stiff as a board, quivering in her grip. She rose into a loveless, clawed grip that seized the back of her neck and held her tightly and painfully.

  “Rune Master?” a growling male voice husked in her ear. “You are unwise to come here unprotected.”

  She dropped the grass and tried to turn, but he was holding her too tightly. His strength rivalled Erik’s, and it frightened her. “I’m not unprotected,” she gasped.

  “No,” he agreed. “No vampire ever is. And no Ulfen is ever without his weapons, too.”

  An explosion of pain ripped through her as he slashed her back with his claws, shredding her clothes and her skin. She could smell her own blood. She cried out, and he shook her.

  “Did that hurt?” He shook her again. “Do you think I care?”

  She whispered softly to herself, and her hand began to glow. She held it against her body, hiding it from his line of vision, allowing the magic time to build.

  The Ulfen was not finished. He slashed her again, this time across the belly, and she screamed. He laughed.

  “Scream, little vampire. You and your Huntsman killed my boy.”

  She thought to the wolf that had attacked Lars when they’d been returning from their feeding trip, and she said, “He attacked us first!”

  “The Draugr have always been the aggressors,” he hissed. A growl sprang up from deep in his chest, and he turned her so she could see him.

  Only inches from her face, his elongated muzzle was set with rows of white and jagged teeth, his lips pulled back in a menacing snarl. His eyes were glowing amber-gold, and he was not quite wolf and certainly not a man any longer. His in-between state was hulking, with a hunched back and long, clawed digits on all four feet. A long, bushy tail swayed behind him stiffly, and hackles stood up along his neck and down his back, just like with an angry dog. His breath was hot against her skin as he licked his lips, excited by the bloody smell of her injury.

  “It’s too bad you’ve been turned,” he said. “It’s been centuries since I’ve tasted Valtaeigr meat.”

  “It’ll be centuries more.”

  She brought her glowing hand up into his face, connecting a rune-laden fist with his long jaw. His teeth clacked together with the force of the blow and his head snapped back, and in his surprise, his grip on her neck loosened. She extended claws of her own and ripped at his throat, but his hide was too tough, and she could do no more than scratch him. It was enough to distract him, though, while she ran back toward the house.

  She had come farther into the woods than she had thought, but she was faster now that she was a Draugr. She could hear large animals, more Ulfen, loping in the trees on either side of the path, but they were out of sight, completely under the effects of their camouflage. Their panting and barking and the sound of them crashing through the vegetation was terrifying, and perversely she took strength from it. The fear gave her speed, and she burst from the woods and made it to the door before the wolves could reach her.

  Three Ulfen in their full wolf forms followed her from the woods, followed by the half-shifted Ulfen who had attacked her. She raised her chin. “Are you Ardrik?” she demanded. “I’ve heard your name.”

  “Then you know who is coming to kill you,” he snarled.

  “No. I know who I’m going to turn into a rug.”

  She opened the door, and suddenly Lars was there, his pistol at the ready. The Ulfen fell back, and he held the line while she got behind him. He pointed the pistol at Ardrik’s face, and the alpha wolf motioned his pack mates back into the woods.

  “This is not over, Rune Master,” he told her. “Not by a long shot.”

  Nika faced him, her hand glowing once again. “Good. I look forward to round two.”

  The Ulfen brought up their preternatural camouflage and disappeared from view, and soon even their scent was gone. Nika put her hand on Lars’ arm.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I thought you were upstairs.”

  “I was in the den,” he said, “watching television. I heard their noise and came out. I didn’t realize you had gone outside.”

  She went into the house, and he closed the door and locked it. “I needed to get some air,” she said.

  “You shouldn’t go out alone.”

  Nika went to the keg and drew a pint of dreyri, which she drank quickly. Her hands were shaking. “So I gathered.” She put the glass aside.

  Lars’s eyes saucered. “What the hell happened to you?”

  She shook her head. “Ulfen.”

  He grabbed for his gun and headed toward the door. She stopped him. “Don’t. I don’t want you to fight with them. Like you said, I shouldn’t have been out there alone.”

  “But…”

  “No. Don’t engage them on your own. You’d be killed.” She sighed. “With these werewolves so close by, we should go back to Sweden.”

  He checked her wounds, but they were already healing shut. He nodded. “Yes...there’s no reason to stay here now, not when the whole reason we came was…”

  He trailed of, and she finished for him. “To celebrate Erik’s birthday.”

  “Yes.”

  There was so much sorrow in that one word, so much defeat in the rounding of his shoulders, that Nika realized with a start that Lars was grieving, too. It had never occurred to her to consider anyone else’s pain. She went to him and embraced him, and he hugged her tight.

  “I’m sorry, Lars,” she told him, stroking his back. “I’ve been so selfish. He was your friend for a long time, wasn’t he?”

  “Fifteen years,” he acknowledged. “He was one of the first officers I met when I joined SOG. He was…” He took a deep, ragged breath. “He was one of the best men I’ve ever known. I didn’t even think twice about accepting Sif’s offer to turn, since it meant I would be helping him. Now…”

  They pulled apart, and she looked up into his eyes, her hands on his biceps. “Now you wish you could take it back, since he’s gone.” Lars nodded, and she did, too. “So do I.”

  He embraced her again. They stood in one another’s arms for a long moment, drawing strength from each other and solace in their common grief.

  The quiet moment was shattered when Magda came strolling down the stairs in a silk robe, an empty wineglass in her hand. “Well, you two are a soggy mess.” She went into the kitchen to top off her drink from the keg. “Honestly, you should know how these things go. Vessels are always reincarnated. He’ll be back. You just have to wait for him.” She returned to the room and sipped the dreyri delicately. “You have forever. Don’t be impatient.”

  Lars turned to her with and said sarcastically, “Your compassion is overwhelming.”

  She huffed softly and headed back upstairs. “I’ve lived too long to be compassionate, Lars. You’ll learn that lesson, too, in time.”

  Nika said, “I hope I never do.”

  Magda looked over her shoulder at her. “Keep walking with the wolves, my baby Valtaeigr, and you won’t need to worry about it.”

  She turned and went up the stairs. Nika shook her head.

  “I don’t like her,” she told Lars. “I don’t know how you sleep with her.”

  “With one eye open and Sif in between us,” he answered, smirking. “Honestly… I don’t trust her, either. And neither did Erik.”

  She frowned. “She’s never been very nice to him. What happened between them?”

  “Sif told me that they had some sort of old history, something that made her hate him. Something from the old days.”

  She considered the many sins that Erik had confessed to, and she hated to think which of them might have been visited upon Magda in her youth. “Did she elaborate?”

  Lars sat on the couch, and Nika sat beside him. “She said that Magda used to live in a village outside Moscow. She’s Russian, not Swedish, by birth. Hakon’s band apparently raided Russia, and her village was burned.”

  “But she survived,” Nika said. “Probably not many of her family did.”

  “I think she was brought back to Sweden with them.”

  “By choice?”

  “I doubt it.” He rubbed his neck. “Sif said that Magda used to be his slave.”

  A million unsavory scenarios played in her mind, and she found herself feeling sympathetic toward Magda in her unemotional hardness. She had suffered greatly in her mortal days. Somehow, she suspected that the choice of immortality and becoming a vessel had not been entirely hers to make. Nika wondered if Erik had forced Magda to accept the ritual that brought her to be bound to the spirit of the goddess Sigyn.

  “Do you know anything about her goddess?”

  “Sigyn?” Lars asked. “A little. I know that she was the goddess of fidelity and victory. She was Loki’s wife.”

  “I didn’t know Loki had a wife…”

  “Yeah. Two, I think. And some sons.”

  She leaned her head on her hand. “I don’t know enough about Norse mythology.”

  Lars chuckled. “Well, I’ve been reading up. Your goddess, Ithunn, was the goddess of springtime, and she supposedly had apples that kept the gods immortal when they ate them. Vidar, who was with Erik, he was second only to Thor in strength, and he survived Ragnarok by killing Fenrir the wolf.” He sighed. “We could use his wolf-killing ability now.”

  “Do you think that the faery will attack? Erik seemed to take their declaration of war very seriously.”

  He shrugged. “I have no idea. I’m actually completely lost right now. I’m trusting Sif to point the way, and what she says and does is very carefully controlled by Magda.”

  “They have a strange relationship.”

  “I guess.” He looked down at his hands. “They actually love each other quite a lot.”

  “It’s hard for me to imagine Magda loving anyone.”

  He shrugged. “Everybody loves somebody, for good or ill.”

  She looked at him. “What about you, Lars? Who do you love?”

  He met her gaze. “Not a who. A what. I love my country. I’ve been serving Sweden all of my life. I joined the army as soon as I was able, and I’ve never looked back. When Sif said that there were vampires and shapeshifters and that they could only be stopped by the Huntsmen, and that all of the Huntsmen but Erik had died in America, well… I couldn’t leave my country to them. I had to do something.” He looked away again. “I did it for Sweden, as well as for Erik.”

  She put her hand on his shoulder. “You’re a hero, Lars. Sweden is lucky to have you.”

  He smiled. “Thank you. That’s a kind thing to say.”

  “I mean it. I have a lot of respect for men who are honorable and patriotic.” She sighed. “Erik loved Sweden, too. He wouldn’t have stayed in the army for literally centuries otherwise. And he had all that time to go anywhere in the world, and he stayed in Stockholm. I think that says a lot.”