Lars nodded. “What about you, Nika? Are you going to stay in Sweden?”

  She took a moment to think about it. “If he’s going to be reborn, knowing how much he loves his country, that’s where he’s going to do it. I need to be here when he comes back.” She tried to smile for him. “Yes. I’m staying.”

  “Good. I don’t have many friends. I’d hate to lose you, too.”

  She squeezed his hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  ***

  Ardrik returned to the pack den in a sour mood. The other wolves were equally out of sorts, and Dominic steeled himself. As the pack omega, he knew what was coming next.

  The alpha was the first to take out his bad humor on Dominic, chasing him into the back of the den and pinning him against the wall, biting at him. The others joined in, snapping and clawing. He shifted into wolf form, and they grabbed his neck and haunches in their teeth, biting painfully. He yelped and snapped back at them, baring his teeth, but he kept his tail submissively tucked.

  His brother Alaric grabbed him by the ear and dragged him onto his back, flipping him so his belly was in the air, and he whined in fear and dismay. Ardrik pounced on him, snarling, and Dominic closed his eyes, ready to be eviscerated. He had never seen his father so angry.

  Alaric gripped him by the throat and shook him. Stars flashed into his eyes, and he cried out in pain. The scar tissue on his neck from that long-ago Draugr bite, the one that had consigned him to this lamentable position in the pack hierarchy, helped him for once when it made his hide just a little too tough to bite through. Alaric growled.

  Ardrik snipped at Alaric, and the younger wolf released Dominic. That was the signal that the beating was over for now. They left him to lick his wounds and turned away, shifting into their human forms and muttering to each other.

  He stayed four-legged and as close to the ground as he could for the rest of the night.

  Chapter Nine

  In the old days, they would have traveled to their raiding sites in a drekar, following waterways into the center of unsuspecting villages. Now they traveled in a cargo van with tinted windows. Whatever the conveyance, when they reached their target, the effect would be the same.

  Erik sat in the front passenger seat, his double-headed axe on the floor between his feet, the handle resting against his chest. He still felt empty, and his head still hurt, but he was more or less functional. He just wished he could remember anything before waking up in Bjorn’s house.

  They said he had swallowed dreyri made from the blood of a linnorm, but that didn’t seem possible. He knew that the last linnorm had been slain eight hundred years ago - after all, he’d been the one to slay it, along with his brother, Gunnar. The blood that had been collected from the mighty beast had been turned over to Magda with directions to enchant it, but he had been told that the enchantment hadn’t worked, and that the blood had spoiled. If he had indeed taken linnorm dreyri, then Magda had lied to him, which wasn’t that difficult to believe. It also explained his persistent mental haze.

  He looked in the rearview mirror at the Valtaeigr girl, Mia, who had come along to offer magical support to their raid. She wasn’t the red-haired woman in his dream, but she was similar enough that he found it distracting. He could not shake the feeling that he should have known her, and that he should have known the woman in his dreams. Every time he tried to think of her, his chest would hurt and his head would swim, and just like clockwork, Mia would come to his side with her incense. He was beginning to wonder if her remedy was doing more harm than good.

  Brevik drove the van, whistling a song from the old days. All of the First were quite merry, happy to be raiding. Agnar had even told him that he was happy Erik had chosen to raid with them again. His comment had earned him a harsh word from Bjorn, and now Erik wondered where he had been and how he had been spending his time.

  As far as he could remember, raiding was the only thing he knew. He led his men into harm’s way, and they returned with riches and glory. It was as it always had been. Only… it wasn’t. Something was very wrong.

  He rubbed his forehead with his hand, and Mia leaned forward. “Headache?”

  “No,” he lied. “Just an itch.”

  She looked unconvinced, but she sat back onto the wide bench seat she was sharing with Dag and Olaf. She was a beauty, there was no doubting that, but Erik thought there was a wrong-ness to her face, some quality that should have been there but was missing, or a quality that was there that should not have been. It made his head hurt to think about, and so he turned to look out the window.

  He had done enough thinking for now.

  ***

  Ardrik ran to the edge of a forest lake, and he lowered his muzzle to the water. By the scent, he could tell that his contact was at home. He shifted to his human form and tapped the surface three times, sending ripples through the lake to announce his presence.

  After a moment, a pair of glowing yellow eyes appeared in the depths of the dark water, and then the new Nøkken ruler rose to the surface. In his natural guise, he was moss-covered and greenish, with dark veins running beneath his skin. It was hard to believe that anyone would be seduced by such a creature.

  He strode to the shore and left the water, standing in front of the Ulfen alpha. He smelled of sea weed and rotting vegetation, and Ardrik suppressed a sneeze.

  “What is it?” the Nøkken asked.

  “The Jutland pack has arrived, and with them the Doggerland pack. We are ready to begin our operation. Will the trolls be coming?”

  The Nøkken nodded. “The trolls and the frost giants will join. The others will decide after they see your success...or failure.”

  He nodded. “The Draugr in the cottage have silver bullets. They are ready for us.”

  “Then plan your attack accordingly,” the Nøkken ordered archly. “We have contracted with you because of your strength, not because you are invulnerable. Every war brings casualties.”

  “The Valtaeigr…” he began.

  “I do not care to hear about your spies and machinations,” the Nøkken advised. “I care only for results. I want the Draugr destroyed, starting with the last Huntsman and the Rune Master.”

  “The Huntsman is dead, as I’ve already reported to the witches. As for the Rune Master, she is careless. We will eliminate her soon enough.”

  The Nøkken began to return to the lake, but hesitated and said, “And your son, Dominic. Will he fight?”

  Ardrik raised his chin proudly. “None of my cubs are cowards. Even the omega will fight when he is ordered to do so.”

  “I hope so. I have heard that he may be...compromised.”

  Ardrik flushed, and he balled his fists at his sides. “His injury was years ago, and the Draugr who bit him is long dead. I made sure of that. He is no risk to you.”

  “If he becomes a risk, he will have to be eliminated. The witches will see to that.”

  He returned to the water without another word, melting back into the lake as if he had never existed at all. Ardrik returned to his four-legged form and raced back to his den.

  ***

  Nika was sitting on the couch with the Book of Odin in the early afternoon sunlight, and Magda came and sat beside her.

  “Lars tells me that you’ve decided not to pine away and die for want of your Huntsman after all,” she said, a smile on her face. “That pleases me.”

  Nika closed the book. “If he could wait for me to be reborn, then I can wait for him, certainly.”

  “That shows a great deal of character, my dear.” She touched the book with a fingertip, and Nika only barely resisted the urge to pull it away. “So, have you given any thought to what I said about your training? There is much you still need to learn.”

  She nodded. “I’m willing. I have to do something to fill the time until he returns.”

  “If he returns,” Magda said.

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Nobody knows what the gods will decide to do,” she shrugged. “I certainly can’t predict it.”

  “I came back many times, and always near him. He will come back near me.” Her tone was firm, and it was clear that she would brook no argument on the point. “Will I be going back to Ingrid?”

  “That would be a good place to start, certainly, but I had someone else in mind.”

  “Who?”

  Magda smiled. “My own mentor, an ancient soul named Natasha. She is of the Rus, like me, and she lives in northern Finland. She can teach you everything you want to learn, and things you haven’t even guessed at.”

  “Natasha,” she mused. “That’s a modern name.”

  “So is Magda. So is Nika. We all change with the times.”

  “I suppose so.” She tucked the book onto the seat on her other side, putting her body between its knowledge and the Valtaeigr who was so subtly intruding into her space. Magda noticed the way she guarded the book, and she smiled.

  “Too many secrets,” she said. “It will take you forever to learn everything in that book… unless you voluntarily put out your own eye and hang by the foot from the Tree of Life, that is.”

  Nika smiled. “Odin already did that. I just need to read his book.”

  Lars came into the room, a mug in his hand. Sif walked beside him, their hands entwined. Magda narrowed her eyes but said nothing. Sif saw Magda’s reaction and released his hand.

  “We’ll be heading out tomorrow,” he told Nika. “Back to Mellerstön on your own, or back to Stockholm with us.”

  “I want to go to Mellerstön,” she replied. “I have to face it sooner or later.”

  It was an empty house, devoid of Erik when it had been built for them to share. She was not eager to experience the hollowness she knew was waiting for her inside, but the longer she put it off, the worse it would be. She was not someone who avoided problems, not even painful ones. She would face this challenge head-on.

  Lars nodded. “Okay. I’ll take you home. These two can find their own way back to Stockholm.”

  He smiled at Sif, who nodded. “No problem. Will you be staying on the island, or will you be coming home?”

  He shrugged. “I’ll probably go to Kronberg, see if there’s any truth to the rumor that the SOG will accept us Draugr back into its ranks.”

  Nika frowned. “I don’t trust them. They tried to kill Erik.”

  “Yeah, but they missed. And that was one rogue officer under Loki’s influence, not the high command. I’ll be all right.”

  Magda asked her, “Would you like some dreyri, Nika?”

  She shook her head. “No. I’m going to feed in the hotel.” It was something else she would have to get used to.

  “Suit yourself,” Sif said.

  “Do you want me to go with you?” Lars asked.

  “No. I need to go alone.” Nika rose with the book. “I’ll put this away, and then I’ll go. I’ll be back before you know it.”

  “I can watch the book for you,” Magda offered. The impish look on her face said that she knew Nika would refuse.

  “No, thanks. I’ll just put it back upstairs.”

  She went up the stairs, leaving Magda’s knowing smirk behind, and went into her room. She tucked the book into her suitcase and locked it, then put the key in her pocket. No suitcase would hold up to a suitably determined thief, but she doubted that Magda would do anything so crass and obvious as breaking and entering.

  She glanced out the window, and she thought she saw a flash of eye-shine in the trees. She went to Erik’s bags and collected one of his pistols, checking to make sure it had a full clip of silver bullets inside. He had started to teach her to shoot, but she was certainly not the marksman that he had been; still, if the wolf came up close enough, she’d be hard-pressed to miss.

  She tucked the pistol into her purse and headed out to the hotel.

  ***

  The road ran through a quiet stretch of forest, and there were no other vehicles as far as anyone could see. Even Draugr hearing failed to detect engine sounds or the noises of civilization. They were that far out into the woods. Erik stepped out of the van and looked around, drawing a deep breath of the cool air, smelling the summer scents on the wind. It was another beautiful night in raiding season, with stillness and moonlight their only witnesses. The surprise would be absolute for whoever they would be attacking.

  The Valtaeigr alit right behind him, following him out through his passenger-side door, clambering over the van’s gear box as she came. She dropped down beside him and put a hand on his arm. “Take off your shirt.”

  All of them raided bare-chested, displaying their tattoos. He did as she commanded.

  The flame-haired woman began to chant, and as she did, she opened a screw-top plastic jar filled with something pungent. She began to smear it over his chest and shoulders, her hands working too quickly to be sensual. His mind tried to feed him images of another scarlet headed beauty, but her face was indistinct. He shook his head and tried harder to remember.

  “No, no,” Mia said, forcing him to turn his face to her. “Look here, not there.”

  He didn’t know how she had known that his attention had wandered, but then, how did the Valtaeigr know anything? Shamans and wise women had confounded him for centuries. Clearly this one was not about to change the trend.

  He focused on her, and she resumed her chant, rubbing the smelly oil into his skin. The others removed their shirts and pulled out their weapons, preparing themselves to meet glory or Valhalla tonight. Mia’s eyes pinned Erik’s, and though he tried, he could not look away. His skin tingled wherever her ointment touched, and he felt like he was on fire, burning to death from the inside out. His chest pained him, and he took a breath against it, trying to hide his reaction. He would show no weakness before his brothers.

  “Is it done?” Bjorn asked her.

  “Yes,” she nodded, capping her jar again. “It’s done.”

  “Is he with us?”

  She glared at him. “The effect will last long after the raid is over, I promise you.”

  “It had better. We need him with us. We need him to be seen.”

  Kjeld help up his camera, already shooting a video. “He’ll be seen, all right.” He grinned at Erik. “I’ll make you a star, baby.”

  “Fuck off,” Erik growled. Kjeld only laughed.

  Olaf walked out in front of the group. “The village of the trollkona Iselstad is inside this wood. She is protecting four troll children and a Huldra named Aingred. We will take the children for dreyri and burn the rest….” He hesitated. “Those are your orders, right, Erik?”

  Kjeld filmed his face in close-up. Erik felt confused and on the spot, but he knew that with his brothers, certainty was more important than anything. He could not show a crack if he meant to maintain control. He was their leader, after all. He had always been their captain.

  “Those are my orders,” he affirmed.

  Halvar laughed as if someone had just told him the best joke. Erik glared at him, and he fell silent.

  Olaf came to Erik. “And the Huldra… what about her?”

  “What about her?” Erik asked, feeling his skin tingling. He could smell the blood on everyone’s breath. He could the heartbeats of the trolls in their sleeping village. His fangs extended, long and feral. “Take her however you like, for as long as you like. She is my gift to you and the men.”

  They exploded into grins and back-slapping, congratulating themselves on their boldness and screwing each other’s courage up as high as it would go. They armed themselves with rifles loaded with incendiaries bullets, and Dag strapped a flame thrower to his back. The weapons were new, but the mentality was old. It was a small mob, but mob mentality would still rule the day.

  Bjorn pressed the double-bladed axe into Erik’s hand, and Erik twirled it around himself, the sharp edges whizzing through the air, first on his right, then on his left. He had always done this. It was a martial dance of sorts, a dedication of the blood he was about to spill to the Valkyries and the gods of war.

  Erik raised the axe, and they looked on in breathless anticipation, crouching like runners at the start of a race. “May the gods accept the sacrifices we are about to give them.” He grinned, his face filling Kjeld’s tiny screen.

  “GO!”

  They crashed through the underbrush and found the trolls’ village just a few hundred feet beyond, tucked into a little rocky valley in the woods. There were four huts, each one wide as a longhouse and just as tall, the roofs thatched and smelling of new grass.

  Too wet to burn, Erik thought. No matter. We will slaughter them where they sleep.

  They kicked down the doors and set fire to the buildings, axes and bullets putting the unsuspecting faery to their deaths. Draugr fangs sank into faery veins and screams filled the clearing. The Huldra was pulled out of the protection that the trolls had given her, and they all took a turn at her, biting and brutalizing. Her nearly lifeless body was dumped into the back of the van beside five terrified and manacled troll children, and then the bloodstained Viking vampires left, rolling down the highway with a blaze of destruction behind them.

  It had taken less than half an hour to destroy twenty-five trolls and take five captives. There was no gold this time, no objects worth taking, but when they sold the virgin troll blood and finished their games with the Huldra, they would feel well rewarded.

  The burning and tingling from the ointment was fading, and Erik’s senses were full of smoke and blood. He felt sick.

  Mia watched Erik closely. She met Bjorn’s eyes, then reached up to touch Erik’s neck. She spoke with a tone and timber none but a Valtaeigr could match. “Sleep.”

  He sagged in the seat, his chin on his bloody chest.

  “Kjeld,” Bjorn asked, “did you get that all on video?”

  “Every single minute,” he nodded. “It was just like old times. I forgot what a beast he could be. I sent it to Magda to see what she wanted to do with it.”

  The Huldra whimpered, and Dag said, “I think she’s waking up.”

  Their attention turned from Erik to their captives, and still the van kept rolling on.