The room he was in was on the second floor, with hard and rocky ground beneath his window. In the distance, he could see the coast line, with a trio of fishing boats out on the water, coming in for the night with their catch. If he looked to his left, he could see more of the house and the yard, including the front end of the van they’d taken on their raid last night.

  They had raided a troll settlement, he remembered now. It had been bloody, vicious, and cruel. He had been bloody and cruel. His memory of the attack was clear in his mind, his own terrible actions lurid in his recollection. No wonder the faery had declared war upon his kind.

  The thought confused him. The faery had declared war? He felt certain it was true, but he could not remember why in the world he would think such a thing, or where that information might have come from. He put a hand to his head and squeezed his eyes shut in consternation.

  Erik, a female voice called in his head. Erik Thorvald.

  He opened his eyes and looked out at the water. He could see a woman approaching, small and white and dressed in humble clothing. Her white hair floated on the breeze as she walked across the sand at the water’s edge. She was speaking to him, but she was not using her voice. He realized with a start that he could see through her.

  Erik, come to me, she said. You know who I am.

  He was desperately confused. She looked familiar, sounded familiar, but he could not place her. He was flooded with feelings of peace and trust, but he knew that she was projecting those emotions into him. She was vala, and more, she was a vessel. He could see the goddess-light within her.

  Yes, the woman said. She was as one with his mind, seeing his thoughts and feeling his emotions. She projected serenity. Come to me, Vidar. I am Frigg.

  He looked over his shoulder at the door to the bedroom. It was still closed, and he could hear none of his housemates stirring. His gaze fell upon the scattered incense trays, and the woman spoke again.

  They have been poisoning you.

  He hauled himself up onto the window sill and jumped out. The two-story drop was of no consequence to a vampire of his age, and he landed lightly on his feet. The apparition of Frigg’s vessel receded just a touch, and he understood that he was to follow her.

  I will lead you, she told him. Come to me, Erik and Vidar. Come to me.

  He went to the parked van and opened the driver’s side door. The van was empty, but it still reeked of blood and carnage. He looked back at the house.

  They are all dead.

  He doubted the helpful specter. Even the Huldra? he asked.

  They drained her this morning.

  He pressed his lips into a grim line and got behind the wheel. It was a simple matter to hot wire the ignition. He backed out of the driveway, as slowly and as quietly as he could.

  The apparition appeared in the passenger seat beside him. I will guide you, she said. Drive where I tell you.

  He obeyed.

  ***

  The police and EMTs finally left after three hours of questions, and their cabin and the ones flanking them were marked as crime scenes. Nika and Magda were checked over by the EMTs and then released with their luggage and their passports. Magda wept all through the process of packing Sif’s clothes, and Nika packed Lars’ and Erik’s things together. The keg of dreyri had been shattered and its contents had leaked all over the kitchen cupboard, most of it running down the drain. They dumped the remainder and left the cabin behind, a shrine to bad memories.

  They took a taxi to the dock, where the driver helped them with their baggage. They boarded Lars’ boat. It seemed so much larger than it had on the trip over from Sweden, and Nika stood on the deck with her hands on her hips. Magda paid the driver for his trouble and joined her on deck.

  “Do you know how to operate one of these?” Nika asked her.

  “Yes. I’ve learned a great many things in my time.” She sat at the wheel and hesitated, her hands on her lap. “I don’t want to go to Stockholm yet.”

  Nika went to stand beside her, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Where would you like to go?”

  Magda wiped at her eyes. “I need to see Natasha. She’s the one I told you about - the one who could help you learn more. You should see her, too.”

  She had nothing better to do, and nowhere to go that wouldn’t echo with Erik’s absence. She nodded. “All right. Can we get there by boat?”

  “Yes. It’ll take a while, but we can do it.” She started the boat, and the engine chugged to life with agreeable speed. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For being understanding.” Magda looked at her, then away. “I was less than sympathetic when Erik died. I’m not a very sympathetic person, in general. You’ve been very kind to me, even though I haven’t been very kind to you.”

  Nika leaned against the half-wall beside the controls. “I understand. You’ve had a hard life, and that can make a person hard.”

  She looked surprised. “What do you know of my life?”

  “Only what Lars told me.”

  Magda’s eyes flooded again. “Lars.”

  Nika impulsively hugged her, and Magda clung to her for a long moment. She whispered in a tear-choked voice, “Grief is so hard to handle.”

  “It is,” she agreed, nodding. “It’s the worst.”

  Magda kissed her cheek, then pulled away, wiping again at the trails of moisture on her face. “All right, then. Here we go.”

  She eased the boat out of the dock and into the bay, headed south.

  ***

  Dominic made it as far as the train station before his pack found him. He was waiting for his train to arrive, ticket in hand, when he got the first whiff of Ulfen scent. He looked around but was unable to see any of the others, although he could tell from the scent that they were approaching. The train station was too loud and too filled with people for him to get any auditory hints of their progress, but when a hand grabbed him by the back of the neck, he knew it was too late to run.

  The hand on his neck force-marched him into a secluded area away from human witnesses. He could feel the press of Ulfen around him, all of them moving under their camouflage, but all of them eager for his blood. They bumped against him as he was pushed into the bathroom.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  Ardrik’s voice was a low growl in his ear, pitiless and angry. The grip on his neck became painful, and he was forced to his knees. He cried out, but his alpha was unmoved.

  “Where were you during the attack? We missed you.” His father shook him, and he flopped, the nerves running out of his cervical spine compressed and deadened. “You were protecting vampires, weren’t you?”

  Somehow, he gathered some strength and snarled, “Go to hell.”

  They fell on him en masse, dozens of toothy jaws and slashing claws ripping into his flesh. He screamed and tried to protect himself by shifting into wolf form, but it was to no avail. They shredded him. He tried to fight back, but he was too outnumbered. They threw him into the air and beat him nearly senseless, attacking him until his blood stood in pools on the tiled floor.

  “Enough!”

  Ardrik stopped the mayhem before he was completely unconscious, possibly showing a glimmer of paternal feeling. He dragged Dominic up onto his feet and held him there, since he was unable to stand on his own.

  “You are expelled from the pack,” his alpha told him, his tone steely. “You are expelled from every pack. You are dead to us. Go to your Draugr. Maybe they will take you in. We are done with you.”

  He dropped Dominic onto the cold floor, and then the pack left the room, a few of them sparing the time for a parting kick or bite. When they were all gone and the room was quiet, Dominic dragged himself up onto his hands and knees, blood dribbling from his mouth.

  A human man came in and shouted in surprise and alarm, then rushed to him. “What happened? My God… Help! Somebody help me!”

  He wanted to push him away, but he was too weak. He fell onto his side and lay there, too spent to do anything more.

  Chapter Eleven

  Days passed. Travel occupied his days and his attention, and the farther he got from Bjorn’s house, the clearer his mind became. He remembered the declaration of war, and his failed intervention with the First. He remembered the linnorm dreyri and Magda’s betrayal. Worst of all, he remembered the part he had played in the decimation of the sleeping trolls in their village. He remembered the Huldra, and when he did, he wanted to weep. It had been a return to the bad habits of his past. He could never let Nika know what he had done.

  He followed the directions in his head, but by now, he knew where he was going. He was headed to Ingrid’s little house by the sea. The vala had rescued him. How she had known of his difficulty, he wasn’t certain, but she had always had a knack for knowing things. He was long past questioning the Valtaeigr, but not past wondering at their ways.

  He had lost his cell phone somewhere along the way. He wanted to call Nika, to tell her he was all right. The connection between them was severed, and the loss of it made him ache. He understood now that the breaking of the Chosen bond was the source of the constant pain in his chest. He hoped that she was holding up.

  The road to Ingrid’s house finally ended in her gravel drive, and by the time he had parked the van, she was standing in the front door, waiting for him. She had her white hair pulled back into a long braid, which she had wound into a coil on the back of her head. She wiped her hands on the apron she wore over her blue dress, smiling at him as he exited the van.

  “Erik,” she greeted. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “I need to use your phone,” he said. He caught himself, shook his head, and added, “Thank you for helping me. I greatly appreciate it.”

  She smirked. “A late show of gratitude is better than none at all. My telephone is at your disposal.”

  He gave her a sheepish smile and went into her house. It looked the same as it always had, as if no matter how much time passed, this place was a little pocket of unreality outside the stream. Her telephone was an old rotary affair, and he dialed Nika’s number.

  The cell phone rang and rang, and she never picked up. The voice mail greeting began to play, and he waited impatiently for it to finish. When he could leave his message, he said, “Nika, I’m all right. I don’t know what Magda told you, but don’t trust her. I’m at Ingrid’s. Have Lars bring you on his boat. I need to see you.”

  He hung up and turned to Ingrid, who had closed and latched the door. She nodded to him. “Your Chosen is alive and well, although she believes that you have died. She is too strong to waste away, although she tried at first. You should be proud of her.”

  “I am.” He sat at her kitchen table, the heart of the house. She sat across from him. “What am I going to do now?”

  “First, you let me cleanse you of the effects of the spells that little harridan was casting on you,” she answered. “Second, you let me get in touch with Nika and bring her here.”

  “That would be wonderful.”

  She smiled. “Would you like something to drink? I have some dreyri left from when you were here before.”

  “As long as it isn’t linnorm or faery,” he said ruefully.

  “No. Human. Obtained from blood banks and willing donors.”

  He sighed. “That would be amazing.”

  She went down into her cellar and came back with a wooden tankard filled with enchanted blood. She put it down in front of him and sat again.

  “You’re probably wondering what Magda’s game is in this.”

  “I certainly am.” He sipped the drink and his shoulders relaxed, at least marginally. “I know she hates me. That’s been true for centuries.”

  “Can’t blame her.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Good. But even though she’s justified in disliking you, she’s not justified in what she’s doing now.” She looked at him as he drank. “Do you even know what she’s doing?”

  “Other than trying to make certain that the faery have a reason to declare war? Other than trying to set up a nice little business selling narcotic blood to young vampires?”

  She smiled. “Other than that.”

  “If there’s more, I don’t know what it is.” He sipped from his tankard again. “I hope you can tell me. I hope you will tell me.”

  Ingrid folded her hands on the tabletop and said, “She is the vessel for Sigyn, devoted bride of Loki. You recently immolated Loki’s vessel, forcing him back into the cycle of rebirth. You are also the vessel of Vidar, who is destined to kill Fenrir at Ragnarok. And do you know who Fenrir’s father is?”

  “Loki.”

  “Indeed.” She nodded. “This is all about revenge. Magda hates you, and Sigyn hates Vidar, and they both want the two of you dead.”

  “So why enchant me and send me on that raid?” He clenched his fist. “Ingrid, the things we did - if Odin had not punished me already, I would deserve it now.”

  She patted his hand. “You are not responsible for the things you did while under that compulsion,” she reassured him. “And Odin will not punish you, because your vow was to protect humans, not the faery.”

  “They were helpless,” he said bitterly. “They were sleeping and we fell on them with fire.”

  “That was Bjorn’s doing, and Mia’s. Not yours. I know that you have spent years developing a conscience, but now is not the time to exercise it. Put your guilt aside until you have the luxury of time. Right now, we need to stop Magda and Bjorn.”

  He finished his dreyri. “I need to get a message to the Ulfen alpha, see if I can stop this war before it starts. If the Ulfen and the Draugr start to fight, there will be no hiding it from the humans.”

  Ingrid sighed. “It’s too late for that, I fear. There has already been an Ulfen attack.”

  “Where?”

  “Finland.”

  He felt chilled. “Where in Finland?”

  She met his eyes calmly and tried to will him to stay placid. He shrugged of the suggestion. He had had enough of Valtaeigr playing with his mind.

  He answered for her. “Oulu.”

  She nodded.

  “Shit.” He rose. “I need to -”

  “You need to sit down. You haven’t been cleansed yet. If you go back now, you’ll fall right back into their clutches. We can’t have that.”

  He hesitated, then sat again. “What do you need to do?”

  “We need a ritual.”

  He took a deep breath and let it out in a rush. “Terrific.”

  ***

  Magda piloted the boat all the way around the southern tip of Finland and down the Neva to a slip in St. Petersburg. Nika had read about the fabulous Russian city many times, but she had never realized it was so close to Scandinavia. The gilt-edged buildings looked like Christmas cards in the sunlight, and she realized that she was gaping.

  “Those are palaces from the time of Peter the Great,” Magda told her. “Those were heady days. The rest of the city is very nice, but a little less grand.”

  “Amazing,” she said, shaking her head. I wish Erik could see this.

  A young woman with the body of a ballerina was waiting for them on the pier, her hands in the pockets of her trench coat. She was wearing sky-high stilettos and had her scarlet hair loose and cascading over her shoulders. She brightened into a smile when the two women left the boat.

  “Magda!” They embraced, exchanging kisses on the cheeks. “And who is your lovely companion?”

  “This is Nika Graves. Nika, this is Natasha.”

  They shook hands. “A pleasure.”

  Natasha looked down at their connected palms, then back up at Nika with a knowing look in her moss-green eyes. “The pleasure is all mine, Rune Master. So, you are the one who helped burn Loki’s vessel.”

  She didn’t know if that was meant as a compliment or a criticism. “I just cast the spell to hold him in place.”

  “Ah. I see. And the Huntsman burned him to death.”

  “Yes.”

  Natasha and Magda exchanged a glance, but they said nothing. Natasha asked Nika, “Do you need help with your bags?”

  She glanced back at the pile of things, which included bags that had belonged to Sif, Erik and Lars. “I wouldn’t mind it.”

  “I thought as much.” She signaled to her waiting driver, and he helped them get the luggage into the back of the car. It was just this side of a limousine, and Nika was impressed. Apparently, Natasha had been doing very well for herself.

  She seemed to know what Nika was thinking, for she said, “There is a lot of money in Russia these days. There actually always was, but now it’s much more obvious.” She slid into the car, and Nika and Magda followed suit.

  The car took them to an elegant home on the outskirts of the city, surrounded by flowering bushes and a neat white fence. The driver brought the luggage into the house, then left with a tip of his cap. Natasha and Magda embraced again.

  “Welcome home, my dear,” Natasha said.

  Magda smiled. “It’s good to be back.” Her smile dimmed. “The Ulfen killed Sif.”

  “Oh, no.” She touched Magda’s cheek with the backs of her fingers. “I’m so sorry.”

  “That wasn’t supposed to happen,” she told Natasha.

  Nika stood awkwardly, not knowing what to say. The two women, who obviously had a great deal of history and a long familiarity with each other, continued to embrace for a long while, ignoring her. She looked at her purse, which had been left in the house during the attack and showed it. There were long claw marks on one section of the bag, as if the Ulfen had been trying to dig into it for something. She opened the flap and took out her cell phone, but the screen was filled with a spider web of cracks. It was completely broken. She sighed and put it back. She’d had the ridiculous urge to call Erik, just to hear his voice on his voicemail greeting. Now even that was lost to her.

  The two women finally noticed her, and they stepped out of their long embrace. Natasha said, “Magda tells me that you still have a great deal to learn. Did you bring the Book of Odin?”