She did not stay to see the rest of their reactions. Turning toward the sky, she used Erik’s power and took flight.

  ***

  Ingrid turned Erik onto his back and wiped the black blood of his enchantment away. His wound was already healing, as she had known it would, powered by his ancient Draugr blood and his renewed connection to Nika. What she had done had more or less drained his infection and released him from the evil that Mia and her concoctions had put into him.

  She poured cool water over his chest and rinsed him clean. The black blood slid off onto the plastic sheet on which she had placed him, where it could be safely contained without contaminating her herbs. She would be unable to move him on her own, so she waited for him to wake up.

  He was out for a long time, but finally his blue eyes flickered open, and he stared up at her in disbelief. “You stabbed me,” he complained.

  “Sorry. It was the only way. They created a black bag around your heart and I had to drain it.”

  He sat up slowly. “That doesn’t seem very anatomically likely.”

  “Neither do disappearing fangs or flying without wings,” she retorted. “Get up and strip.”

  Erik raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. Those clothes are contaminated. You have to discard them.”

  He gave her a sour look, but he obeyed, peeling off his blood-soaked clothing and tossing it onto the tarp. He stood fully naked before her and opened his arms to the side, displaying everything he could display. “Happy?”

  She laughed. “Let me hose you down to get the last of it off.”

  He stood and let her spray him lightly with the garden hose, turning so that she could access all sides of him. When she was done, she beckoned him off of the tarp, and he stepped off onto the flagstone path that led to the house.

  She rolled up the tarp very carefully, making certain that nothing escaped the sides. Once she was certain she had the offending contamination cocooned, she tied the tarp and set fire to it. Although everything should have been too wet to burn from the blood and water, the bundle went up like flash paper.

  Erik looked at her, uncertain what to do next. He was out of his depth. Ingrid smiled and retrieved a bathrobe for him, which he put on and tied shut.

  “Come in and get some more dreyri,” she told him. “You need your strength up, and you’ll be having a visitor soon.”

  “A visitor?” He shook his head. “I don’t think I want any visitors.”

  “This one, you’ll want to see.”

  They went inside, and he sat at the kitchen table. “I feel like I’m flying.”

  Ingrid’s only answer was to laugh.

  ***

  Mia went to Bjorn and shook him out of his inebriate haze. A bottle of troll dreyri lay empty beside his bed. When he finally opened his eyes, she told him, “Thorvald is with Ingrid.”

  “How do you know?” he asked, bleary.

  “Because she just broke the last tendril of my control over him,” she said. “I know it was her.”

  He pushed her aside and stood up, wobbly. “She’s Valtaeigr.”

  “She is, but she never became Draugr. She’s a witch. She used to be one of the Dark Sisters, but she left us years ago.”

  He ran a hand over his beard. “A traitor to the witches like Thorvald is a traitor to us.” He dropped his hand. “Fine. We’ll kill her.” Mia laughed, startling him. He peered at her. “What’s so funny?”

  “She’s the vessel of Frig and the most powerful Valtaeigr in the world,” Mia said. “Not even my mother would dare to stand against her.”

  “Your mother is just a whore with a supply chain,” he bit. “She’s too much of a coward to do anything but hide and count her money.”

  “You call it being a coward. I call it being shrewd. After all, who is getting rich, and who is doing the dirty work?” She leaned closer. “My mother will never be blamed in this, and Thorvald knows you are involved. He will come for all of you.”

  He pushed her against the wall, his hand on her throat. She struggled as he lifted her from her feet. “Do not use your prophesy against me, little witch. I can still use you like the Huldra. Witch blood makes good dreyri, too.”

  She spat in his face, and he dropped her to the floor. She staggered once, then quickly put distance between them. “You’re a fool,” she told him. “A brutal, short-sighted and stupid fool.”

  Bjorn turned on her. “You’re in my bedroom, and I’m between the door and you,” he told her. “I’m an ancient Draugr, one of the First, and you’re just a Valtaeigr witch. I don’t like your chances right now.”

  She held out her hand, and a sword made of black light appeared, surrounded by shadows that writhed around the blade. Her eyes began to glow brilliant red. “I like them very much.”

  He waved his hand at her dismissively. “Parlor games,” he spat. “I’m not some child you can impress with your smoke and mirrors.”

  Mia stepped forward and swung the shadow sword into him. It slashed across his chest, and he looked down in surprise at the gash it created. Blood poured out of the wound, and he looked up at her, eyes wide.

  “You little -”

  His words cut off when he burst into a shower of dust and ash. She watched his death with a smile, then dismissed her sword. She stepped on the little pile of his remains as she walked out the door.

  ***

  Nika let the power lead her. It pulled her along an invisible string, guiding her to its anchor. She willed it to pull her quickly and felt the cold air rushing over her body as she streaked forward. She was exhilarated, excited and thrilled nearly beyond her ability to think. He was alive! Her lover, her soul mate, her Chosen, her master - the one man she could never live without. She wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. All of the grief that had weighted her heart before was gone, and in its place was the feeling of him, the ‘Erik-ness’ of his living spirit on the other end of their link.

  Why couldn’t he feel it? Why was he not celebrating as wildly as she? She needed to see him, to show him the wonderful truth, that they were still alive and still together. She was delirious with the inrush of all of his power, his delicious strength, the magic and the age and the experience that made him so mighty.

  She could sense him now on the ground beneath her, miles and miles below. She opened her arms and flew down to meet him, pulling up at the last moment when she realized that there was a house in the way. She shook the confusion out of her head and landed in the garden. It was Ingrid’s garden. She had spent many days here, learning and living. And now he was here, alive and well.

  Erik opened the door and stood, staring. She went to him and wrapped herself around him, bursting into happy tears when she saw him. She pushed her hands inside the robe he wore, running them over his chest and the rock-hard muscles of his shoulders. He pulled her close and held her tight.

  “Erik,” she whispered against his skin. “Erik! They told me you were lost.”

  He kissed her deeply, and she surrendered herself to the touch, utterly his just as he was utterly hers. She could feel his heart beating against hers, both physically and through the spiritual connection they shared once again. It felt so right, and so perfect, that she could not stop crying.

  Erik picked her up in his arms and carried her inside, closing the door with his foot. Ingrid rose to meet them, her face beatific with a wide smile. She held a handkerchief and dabbed at Nika’s eyes, wiping away her tears. Nika reached out to embrace her, too, including her in the circle of her joy.

  She sat on Erik’s lap, where she kept her arms around his neck. Ingrid was chattering at her, but she couldn’t hear a word over the delightful sound of his heartbeat. She smiled, and she melted, utterly undone by the beauty of his face and the sparkle in his blue eyes. She kissed him over and over.

  The power that had brought her to him slowly receded, returning to its rightful owner. He grew stronger as she faded, but that was all right with her. She was happy to have his arms around her, giving her protection once more. She was where she wanted to be, and he was himself again, and he had been returned to her. Nothing else could ever matter as much.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ingrid left the two lovers alone and went out into her garden. She knelt and pressed her hands deep into the earth, concentrating her magic into the ley lines that ran beneath her house. She connected with the line, a river of paranormal energy connecting all of the magical places in the world, and pushed her consciousness into it. Her body became ghost-like and followed.

  She swam for what might have been an hour or might only have been a second or two, but she finally found what she was seeking. She emerged from the line in the center of a sacred grove in northern Finland. The grove was silent, but she could feel the eyes of a dozen or more faery watching her warily.

  “I come in peace,” she said. “I seek parley with your leader.”

  A voice came from the silent woods. “We have no leader.”

  “Then I need to speak to the alpha of the pack who defends you.”

  The faery whispered among themselves, and then the voice spoke again. “You are the witch Ingrid Nilsson.”

  “I am.”

  “You are the vessel of Frig.”

  “I am.”

  An aged elf, young in appearance but shimmering with the power of antiquity, emerged from the shadows. “You are harboring the Rune Master and the last Huntsman.”

  She saw no use in denying it. “I am.”

  “Why? You know of their sins against us.”

  “I know that the rest of the First have sinned against you. Thorvald has not, not of his own volition.”

  The elf looked unimpressed. “You must know about the recent raid upon the troll camp. Thorvald was part of it.”

  “I know,” she acknowledged, “but he was enspelled. Surely you of all beings understand enchantments.”

  “Assuming that this is the truth,” the elf hedged, “that does not excuse the murder of the Nøkken chieftain.”

  “He was attempting to attack the humans. The Veithimathr are bound by the gods to prevent such things. He would have exposed all of us, and all of you. His death was a mercy to us all.”

  One corner of the elf’s mouth turned down. “I do not believe his death was merciful.”

  “Well, not for him. But for the rest of us.”

  The elf considered briefly. “I will tell the alpha that you wish to speak with him. We will be in touch.”

  Ingrid smiled. “My thanks, ancient one.”

  “Don’t thank me yet,” the elf counseled. “The alpha has not accepted, and it may all come to naught. Now go back the way you came. You are not welcome by everyone here.”

  She bowed her head. “Until we speak again.”

  The elf sighed. “We will not see one another again in this lifetime.”

  Ingrid knelt and returned to her home through the ley line. She emerged in her garden and went back into her house.

  ***

  The delirium of power had mostly passed from Nika’s mind by the time Ingrid returned to the house. She still clung to Erik, unwilling to let go of him now that she had him in her arms again. He tolerated her clinginess - even seemed to like it - and did everything he could to be gentle and reassuring.

  She kissed him for the hundredth time and said, “What happened to you? Magda told me you were dead.”

  He frowned. “Magda dosed me with a kind of dreyri that acts like a narcotic, and she turned me over to the First.”

  Nika gasped, horrible images running through her head of what those unrepentant Vikings might have done to him. “Are you okay?”

  “I am now. They had a Valtaeigr with them, and she kept using this… incense or something. The smoke made me out of my head. I don’t know what it was, or what their end game was, but… I wasn’t myself.”

  She saw a glimmer of guilt in his expression, and he looked away. “Whatever you did, it was because of the drug.” She hesitated. “Right?”

  “I’d like to think so.”

  “What else would it be?” she asked. “You’re a good man, Erik.”

  There was doubt in his eyes when he looked back at her. “Maybe.”

  She embraced him, trying to drive his troubles away. “No maybe about it. What you did in the olden days, that was just because you were a man of your times. What you do now is entirely different, and the man I know would never hurt anyone unless it was in self-defense.”

  “Now, Nika, you know that’s not true.” She was surprised by his mildly scolding tone. “I’m a soldier. We’re trained for the express purpose of hurting people.”

  She put her hand over his mouth. “I’m not talking about what you’re ordered to do. I know you’re in Special Forces, and you’ve probably killed a lot of people in the name of king and country. I get that. I’m talking about you, as a person, on your own.”

  He gently pulled her hand aside and said, “You have so much faith in me.”

  His tone was thick, and she couldn’t read it completely. She nodded. “Yes. I do.”

  This time, he was the one who initiated the kiss. “I’m so sorry that Magda lied to you.”

  “I’m sorry she handed you over to them.” She hesitated on the question, but she had to ask it. “Did they...hurt you?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  She relaxed, relieved that her worst imaginings had been false. “Good.”

  Ingrid returned to the house, and Nika greeted her with a smile. The old woman chuckled. “You look happy.”

  “I’m ecstatic.”

  Ingrid sat across the table from them. “I just asked the elves to arrange a parley with Ardrik.”

  Erik looked surprised. “A parley? What for? He’s not the talking kind, as I recall.”

  “He needs to know that these raids on the faery are by rogue Draugr and not by all of you, and that it isn’t sanctioned.”

  “Honestly, I don’t know who would sanction anything. We don’t have any central authority.”

  She looked at him pointedly and said, “There could be. You are Hakon’s heir, and you should be their leader.”

  “I don’t think the Draugr want a leader,” he hedged.

  Nika looked at him. “It makes sense. You’re the most powerful, and you’re a born leader. You should be in charge.”

  He gently put her on her feet and stood. “No. I can’t be.”

  “Why not?” Ingrid asked.

  “Look at what just happened. They controlled me. No leader worth a damn can be controlled.”

  “Those were extraordinary circumstances,” Nika objected.

  “Were they? Or is there some flaw in me that allowed it?” He paced the floor. “And it was so easy to convince me to revert to the old brutality. Was that the dreyri and the magic, or is that something in me that’s always there? What if power makes me revert again?”

  Ingrid frowned and snapped, “Stop it. This isn’t like you, and it’s unworthy of a Veithimathr.” He stopped short, a surprised look on his face. “Someone needs to take control of this unruly lot, and to finally put an end to what the First and Magda are doing. That person needs to be you.”

  Nika had never seen Erik looking so flummoxed. He struggled to speak. “But… I… how do I do that? How do I take control?”

  She folded her hands. “You call a congress of the Draugr and you announce it. If anyone objects, you kill them. It’s that simple.”

  Nika’s mouth dropped open. “That’s brutal!”

  “Violence and power are the only things that Draugr truly understand,” Ingrid said with a shrug.

  Erik stopped pacing and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “And how do you propose that I do that? The Draugr are all over the world. They’re not all going to assemble in one place. There wouldn’t be room.”

  Curiosity poked Nika, as it so frequently did. “How many Draugr are there?”

  “Thousands,” he answered. “Nobody knows the exact number.”

  “You call the local Draugr together at Uppsala, and I use the power of the place to broadcast what you have to say to the rest of your people,” Ingrid said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Nika can help me.”

  She shook her head. “I have no idea how to do that.”

  “I can teach you.”

  Ingrid’s words reminded her of her time already spent here, learning rune magic, and she felt a sudden flash of heat and dismay. “Oh my God,” she said. “Magda and Natasha have the book.”

  “We’ll get it back,” Erik said. “I’ll get Lars to help me, and we’ll run a mission to retrieve it.”

  Nika went cold. “You don’t know.”

  “Know what?”

  “Erik… Lars and Sif are dead.”

  His jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth. “How?”

  “The Ulfen attacked the cottage in Finland. They were destroyed.” She went to him and put a hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry.”

  He stood in silence for a long moment, fighting his emotions. Finally, he turned on Ingrid. “And you want me to talk to them?”

  She was unmoved by the ferocity in his voice. “Yes. Don’t let more of your people die because of what the First are doing.”

  Nika rubbed his arm comfortingly. He looked at her, and his eyes were full of barely-contained rage. “How did Magda survive? She’s not the fighter those two were.”

  She thought back. “I don’t know. She was in the bedroom upstairs when I got there, and it looked like she defended herself… I guess she was lucky.”

  He looked unconvinced. He pulled away from her and went to the door. “I need air.”

  Nika began to follow him outside, but Ingrid stopped her. “Let him go.”

  “But he’s upset,” she protested.

  “That’s why you need to give him space. Men like Erik won’t grieve in front of women.”

  “That’s stupid.”

  “He doesn’t want to seem weak. Remember, in some ways, he is not a modern man.”

  Nika sighed and returned to sit across from Ingrid. “So how do we get the book back?”