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?”

  Nika wiped at her eyes. “I don’t know.” She took a deep breath, trying to settle herself, but it made her chest hurt and she could feel another crying jag beginning. “I just don’t know.”

  She kissed Nika’s cheek and said, “Well, think about it, dearling. I know what a bad position you’re in, abandoned as you are without your sire.”

  Magda was almost out of the room when Nika stopped her with a question. “Did he suffer?”

  She paused. “No, Nika. He didn’t suffer at all.”

  ***

  When the night had nearly faded into dawn and the others were tangled in slumber in their shared room, Nika left the cabin and walked alone toward the wood. There were Ulfen in those woods, and probably faery creatures who wished her ill. She desperately wished that she could encounter one of them on the foot path through the trees. Maybe, if they were violent enough, the pain she was feeling would somehow end.

  She had given up everything to come to Sweden and be with Erik. They were supposed to have had forever. Now that he was gone, she simply couldn’t wrap her mind around the thought of life without him. His absence had created a hole in her heart that she was certain would never be filled again, ever. The ache of it was constant, a dull and weighty pain that dragged her down into listless staring. Life would never be the same without Erik. Life would never be life without Erik.

  She was weeping again, but the wind dried the tears on her cheeks as they fell. The air was crisp tonight, feeling more like autumn than summer, and the chill seemed suitable. A sunny day or a warm, sensual night would have been insulting in the wake of Erik’s death.

  She heard something on the path behind her, a soft sound that barely registered above her own aching heart. She stopped and turned, but there was nothing there when she looked. There were only shadows. Nika took a deep breath and turned back into the wood, continuing her walk.

  Another sound reached her, but this time it was beside her, to her left, just off of the path. Something brushed through the trees, because she could see the branches of a low-reaching fir tree swaying. She stopped.

  “Who’s there?” she asked.

  “If my father finds you, you’ll be killed,” a rich masculine voice said from the shadow.

  She strained her eyes, trying to see, but for some reason she could not explain, her usually infallible Draugr sight was failing her. She wrapped her arms around herself.

  “Who is your father?”

  Something dodged across the path right in front of her, but she couldn’t see anything at all. There was a whiff of magic and musk, and then the moonlight seemed to shimmer into solidity, revealing Dominic, the Ulfen from the resort. He seemed to take form out of the silvery illumination, suddenly real where he’d been only a whisper before. He was still wearing his leather jacket and blue jeans, and the bright light from the moon gleamed off of his jet-black hair.

  “My father is Ardrik,” he answered. “Our alpha.”

  She squared her shoulders. “Well, introduce us so we can get this over with.”

  She lowered her head as if she meant to walk through him, and he caught her with his hands on her shoulders. “What are you doing?”

  He sounded honestly confounded. She pulled away from his hands. “I want to see your father. Where is he?”

  Dominic looked into the woods, then shook his head. “No. This is wrong.”

  Nika began to cry. “Just take me to him! Please!”

  “He will kill you,” he repeated.

  “I know!” she sobbed. “I want him to!”

  The shifter looked into her tear-streaked face and desperate eyes, and he put his arm around her. “No. I’m not sure what’s happening here, but…no. Just, no.”

  He steered her around to face back out of the forest.

  “Go back to your cabin, Rune Master. Life is not to be thrown away so easily.”

  She shook off his arm and turned toward him, her eyes glowing green and her long fangs ready to bite. “What do you know about it? What do you know about anything? My Huntsman is dead. I want to join him.”

  She fell into broken sobs, and Dominic stood awkwardly, staring at her in confusion. Finally, he spoke, and it was as if he was thinking aloud. “I have no love for the Draugr. I have no reason to want you to live.” He frowned. “What do you mean, your Huntsman is dead? Who killed him?”

  “The First,” she answered, wiping her eyes with the heel of her hand. “They murdered him in Stockholm.”

  “Why?”

  She crossed her arms again, holding her stomach against the bottomless pit of dark despair inside of her. “He wanted to make them stop raiding the faery.”

  Dominic raised an eyebrow. “He sacrificed himself to save them? Why?”

  She let her fangs sink back into their hiding places above her normal teeth. “Because he was a good man.”

  “He didn’t want the destruction of the faery?”