Rune Awakening

by Genevra Black

  “My deepest apologies, my lord,” he mumbled. It wouldn’t make much of a difference, standing or kneeling; he would be punished the same. He could only hope he made it through this encounter intact.

  “I am not one of your diplomat friends. Your apologies are worthless.” The Wounded stepped closer and crouched so they were level. “And I’m beginning to think you are, too.”

  Zaedicus knew better than to refute that.

  The vision straightened up and looked away from the high-wight, as though Zaedicus was so utterly insignificant that he need not acknowledge him. “I have heard that she came to your den of her own free will, that you had her revenant in hand. You had every opportunity to seize her, yet you squandered it.”

  “The idiots who erred in those endeavors have been dealt with.” He had not killed Scarlet, though he’d wanted to. And she’d have deserved it for throwing the revenant, something suddenly so valuable, away as soon as she was done with it. Perhaps he had become too attached to her. Her, a lowly human-wight. That abomination guarding the door, on the other hand—

  With a roar, the ethereal flames surrounding the image of the Wounded leaped higher, and even through the shadow shrouding his face, Zaedicus could see the vision’s eyes flash. “Refusing to take responsibility for your half-witted sycophants yet again, are you? You are like a child.”

  A child! Zaedicus could not overlook that slight. Annoyance at the tedious situation turned gradually to a stunned rage. “I am centuries your elder ... my lord.”

  There was a brief silence, then a laugh filtered through the vision’s haze. It was low and private, the way one laughed when one was amused by someone much dumber than oneself and only barely trying to hide it. Only fear kept Zaedicus from scrubbing his blood from the floor and ending the exchange. He knew that, though the Wounded was young, he was capable of dispatching Zaedicus handily.

  And even if the Wounded were somehow to fail, there were beings above both of them, engineering all of this, who would not.

  Zaedicus hugged himself, fingers digging into his upper arms. The thought of what powers lay beyond even the Wounded chilled his already-dead body.

  Something changed within the fire: two forms flanked the Wounded, lower to the ground and keeping close to his legs. The high-wight could feel their gazes fixed on him, and he thought he heard a snarl.

  Wolves. And not just any wolves. Zaedicus’s breath hitched.

  The Wounded’s anger seemed to come to a climax—or what Zaedicus hoped was a climax—and he growled, “I want her!”

  One of the wolves raised its head, nosing its master’s clenched fist. The touch seemed to calm him at once; he reached for both of them, scratching at the backs of their necks.

  When he finally spoke again, his voice was quieter. “Clearly, as those I command seem to be utterly useless, I will have to come and fetch the hellerune myself.”

  Zaedicus could not keep his eyes from widening. Seeing the Wounded’s image was one thing; seeing him in person would be quite another. “Are you sure, my lord?”

  “I have little choice,” the vision spat. Then, after a moment of thought: “Luring her with her revenant was ideal, but the dying Reach will be on high alert now. I doubt the opportunity will present itself again.”

  The high-wight’s spirits lifted tremulously. “What do you need, then, my lord?”

  “If I could secure the girl and destroy her allies in one maneuver, no one would come after her. She would have no choice but to join me.”

  Zaedicus felt relief wash over him. He had failed, but perhaps there was yet something he could do. A rare grin came to his face, and it shone through in his tone. “My lord, I have the perfect plan.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Cal dropped Astrid’s leather journal on the table in front of her. “You said you found someone to replace the Little Mermaid, so let’s get a move on. The faster we get through this, the faster I can pull my memories back out of Scarlet’s fucking head.”

  It had been almost two days since they’d rescued Cal. Everyone had agreed that they needed more than a night’s rest to recover and regroup. Now, they’d been at Harbinger Tome and Trinket for a while, updating Astrid but mostly officially introducing her to Fisk. The valkyrie had seemed less than impressed when he’d displayed his meager powers, but she admitted that he was pretty immense and had the advantage of intimidation, not to mention brute strength.

  They’d decided the night before that telling Astrid about Mercy just yet wasn’t their best move. Maybe it was in their best interests never to tell. For now, Mercy was safe at Drake’s house, far away from the apartment.

  Edie had also told Cal everything he’d asked her about the time he was missing, and though he had kept his promise not to tear out of the apartment and go on a killing spree, he was eager to … move forward.

  Astrid looked at him, her mouth twisted sourly. She clearly didn’t like being told what to do, but she said nothing, simply brushing her hair over one shoulder and opening the journal. “Very well. I’m glad to see you’re anxious to get to work, Calcifer. Perhaps the gravity of the situation is finally evident to you.”

  Ouch. Edie grimaced and glanced at Cal. The way he grunted, she thought he probably didn’t like Astrid’s tone either.

  It was awkward to see them angry at each other. When she’d first met Astrid, they had seemed so friendly.

  The others could obviously feel the anger, too. Satara, who had finally had the opportunity to change into jeans and a floral tunic, sighed at the fire; Fisk, who was decidedly unclothed, as usual, bristled with the tension.

  Astrid worked her way through the journal until she reached a page close to the back. “I’ve been looking through these names since yesterday afternoon. I considered many of my oldest allies and dearest friends, but there was only one in the area whose powers eclipse Tiralda’s tenfold.”

  “Who?” It was Satara who asked this time, just as eagerly as Cal, though not as grumpily. Edie got the impression Satara didn’t know much about her battlemother’s past, and that she cherished what she did know. Edie could understand having a mysterious parental figure, that was for sure.

  “Her name is Indriði. She’s a lesser Norn.”

  “You want us to recruit a ... Norn?” Edie said. “An actual Norn?” Jeez. Believing in the gods was one thing; talking about the gods like they were real people was one thing; meeting a being she was pretty sure classified as a demi-goddess was another.

  Astrid smirked at Edie’s skeptical expression. “It’s been many years since we last spoke, but a thousand years ago, she was a high adviser to one of the old Reachers. It’s not as if you’re waltzing up to the Well of Fate and demanding to speak to Urðr herself, Edith. Indriði is very old, but she is still only a very minor goddess.”

  “Oh,” Edie said. “No big deal, then. Just a minor goddess.”

  Astrid frowned. “You will need to get used to meeting people and beings not of the world you’ve known. Besides,” she added with a chuckle, “you’ve already met a Norn.”

  “I have?”

  The valkyrie nodded at each of them. “All of you have, though you didn’t know it at the time. When a child is born, a Norn visits them and begins their tapestry; some guide the child through warp and weft, until the child’s death.”

  Cal cut in: “So, where are we supposed to find this broad?”

  Astrid flared her nostrils and glanced briefly at the ceiling before responding, “She lives in Anster. She prefers to keep up with the times and the fast pace of the city. The last I knew of her, she was living in a townhouse in Alderdeen.”

  Edie clicked her tongue. “That’s a nice neighborhood.”

  “She’s had a lot of time to become quite wealthy.”

  “If she was an adviser,” Satara said, “why did she leave the Reach in the first place?”

  With a sigh, Astrid pushed her chair out and brushed past Cal, going to look out the window. “It’s ... complicated. And it’s
the reason I don’t think she’ll speak to you if you just show up at her home.”

  “You’re not great at keeping friends, you know that?” Cal grumbled.

  Astrid either didn’t hear him or chose to ignore him. “It must have been a century ago. We were close, but she was … fixated on a certain Russian soldier. I warned her that caring for a mortal, especially a man going to battle for the Red Army, was only going to end poorly.”

  Fisk gurgled sadly. Edie looked at him, then back to Astrid.

  The valkyrie was looking down at her hands, and she knotted them and smiled cheerlessly. “I was right. And it was I who watched as he fell, who saw that he was carried back across his lines and into her arms. She begged me not to take him, told me to take anybody else, but I couldn’t. He had to die. She, of all people, should have known I took no joy in it.”

  There was quiet for a while before she turned back to them.

  “So, it’s better if I stay away. And if you went to her home, Edith, she’d throw you out as soon as she realized you were with me. No.” She walked back to her chair and slowly sank down, thoughtful. “It needs to be somewhere where the playing field is even, somewhere she wouldn’t dare to cause a scene.”

  She said it as though she already had somewhere in mind, so Edie prompted her, “Where?”

  “There is an elven vampire. Zaedicus Oldine. He is a minor player within the Gloaming, but very wealthy. Favors throwing elaborate parties.”

  “Oh, Christ,” Cal muttered.

  Edie craned her neck to look at him. “Is he someone?”

  “I’ve been to a couple of his parties. They’re a fuckin’ drag.”

  “Drag or not, Indriði will be at the next one,” Astrid said.

  Edie frowned. “Why would she be there if she’s not Gloaming?”

  “Spirits of fate care little about factions and politics, generally. When their sisters and mothers have preordained the entire lives of the people around them, they see no point in taking sides, as they have no sway. To her, advising the Reacher was a curiosity, something to do in her spare time. But she loves parties. If the Aurora threw any, she might try to go to those, too. And who would say no to her?”

  “How can you be sure she’ll be there?” Edie pressed, then added suspiciously, “When is it?”

  “The fact that we parted ways doesn’t mean I haven’t kept close track of her. It is wise to watch your allies, and even wiser to watch your enemies. I often scry for her, or mutual friends bring me information.” Astrid added after a moment, “This time, I heard by raven when he announced his latest party. She has never missed one.”

  “He just announced it?”

  “Only a day ago.”

  The group exchanged glances, and Cal said, “Yeah, I’m sure we can trust that. Nasty vampire throws a party right after we give some Gloaming the slip and just happens to invite the chick you’ve been looking for. Sounds safe as can be.”

  Astrid wrinkled her nose. “Even if someone were to somehow find out that I was sending you after Indriði, I wouldn’t worry about Zaedicus. He’s insignificant. He was exiled from his coven in Europe and became a sycophant of the Gloaming Lord Fahraad. Now that Fahraad is dead, he’s toothless. Their hierarchy has fallen apart. They’re shiftless, disorganized. This is the perfect time for us to scout, because there is no one to lay a trap for us.”

  “Even if he’s just some party boy,” Cal said, “we better be careful.”

  “Indeed.” Astrid nodded in agreement and moved over to a stack of mail on the fireplace mantle. She shuffled some things around, producing a small stack of envelopes, each sealed with deep purple wax. “I had a friend procure these for me. Invitations. They will get you inside. Ideally, keeping your cover will be your only challenge.”

  “When is it?” Edie asked again, accepting her envelope.

  “Tomorrow night.”

  “Wait.” Satara looked almost horrified when Astrid held one of the envelopes out to her. “You’re making me go?”

  “Of course, darling.”

  The shieldmaiden bit her lip. “Without you?”

  Astrid shook her head. “They would surely recognize me, Satara. Besides, you will do fine. You’ve proven that you can fight without me by your side. Don’t you think so?”

  Hesitantly, with an unsure frown, Satara took the envelope. “But … I’ve never been to a party before.”

  Edie could see how uncomfortable Satara was with the idea, and she hated thinking that Satara would be forced to come along just to babysit her. “If you don’t want to come, you don’t have to.”

  Astrid gave her a look, but Satara spoke before she could say anything. “No, Edie, I want to go. If there is a battle, you’ll need me. And after all, even if we don’t find the Norn, it will be a … useful trip. For intelligence.” She managed to smile despite how nervous she seemed—probably about both social interaction and any potential threat.

  Edie looked at Cal. He was glaring at the envelope Astrid had handed him, looking like he wanted to crumple it up and chuck it into the crackling fireplace.

  “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, either, you know.”

  He looked up at her seriously. “Like hell I don’t. That bitch Scarlet went all in, but I’m holding a full house.” He tucked the envelope into one of his back pockets and crossed his arms.

  “Can I come?” came Fisk’s dark, burbly voice from behind Satara. He had sat down next to her and curled up just out of the reach of the fire.

  Astrid and Cal both snapped, “No,” just as Edie and Satara were saying, “Yes.”

  “Why not?” Edie demanded, frowning and looking between them. “If he wants to help, we could use it, couldn’t we? It’s not like we have a lot of backup. Plus, he helped us when we lost your stuff, Astrid.”

  The valkyrie didn’t look happy at being reminded of that, but she remained silent.

  “Kid, listen,” Cal said, pressing his hands together and pointing them in her direction. “Much as it sucks, right now, you can’t do much for us. You barely know what your powers are, never mind how to use them. So, at any given moment, I’m spending most of my energy making sure you’re not about to get your fucking head cut off. I can’t take care of you and the maki roll.”

  “I do not want you to watch after me, stupid man,” Fisk hissed, his spines prickling slightly. “You dishonor the spirits by mocking me, and you dishonor your master by contradicting her will.”

  Edie grimaced. “Don’t call me that.” She glanced at Astrid, then back at Cal. “The maki roll is a lot bigger than you, Cal. I doubt he’ll have any trouble defending himself if he needs to. Just ’cause his magic is, um....”

  Fisk blinked at her with big, innocent eyes and a grin of approval.

  “Uh, you know, isn’t ... fully developed ... doesn’t mean he can’t throw down and eat a dude.” She shrugged.

  The revenant crossed his arms again and muttered venomously, “As you wish, Master.”

  Oh, Christ. She didn’t mean to boss him around, but why leave Fisk behind when he really had a chance of helping? She had to let it go, though. Getting into a giant fight with Cal wouldn’t help at the moment; if they weren’t all focused and on the same page during this ... mission, for lack of a better word, she was pretty sure it would go completely freaking pear-shaped.

  Satara drew Cal’s attention, turning her invitation over in her hands. “These all have a plus one. We can get him in with that.”

  Astrid nodded, looking around the room at them. “Remember, the party will mostly be attended by the Gloaming. They will far outnumber you, so do not make any scenes. Don’t give anyone your real names. Most importantly, find Indriði quickly and discreetly.”

  Satara answered for the group: “Yes, Battlemother.”

  “Good.”

  Cal groaned and looked down at himself, picking at his blood- and dirt-stained T-shirt. “Anyone know a good dry-cleaner?”

  Marius looked into the mirror, adju
sting the cloak chain lying across his chest. He kept his eyes on the brass clasps and the gold brooches covering them—engraved with sunbursts, inset with tiny pearls and sunset tourmaline—and took a slow, measured breath as he smoothed down the cream fur mantle, the fine black wool of the cloak. He fingered the golden silk lining. The person looking back at him in the mirror seemed like a complete stranger—a ponce in fine clothes, dressed for a party to which he did not want to go.

  He’d almost rather storm the mansion and risk death than go to the party.

  Marius recognized this cloak, though he wasn’t sure from where. He tried to focus on that, instead of the very real possibility that he would die wearing it. It wasn’t a question of skill—he took down monsters of all kinds almost every day, had trained his entire life to do just that—but rather odds. The odds that one Auroran vivid could even escape, let alone fight through, a ballroom full of Gloaming if need be.

  The odds weren’t in his favor.

  But he appreciated his father’s confidence in him. This would be another chance for him to bring back the hellerune and see what the Gloaming were up to. Another chance to prove himself. Hopefully.

  The hellerune. Edie Holloway had eluded him three times already. Bringing Tiralda back had been a victory, but bringing the necromancer back would have been better. The last time he’d seen her, she had even been injured—bleeding from internal bruises, as he’d felt when he’d reached out to heal her. It would have been easy to capture her. And once he did….

  And once he did, he wasn’t sure. Maybe his father would destroy her. It wasn’t the first time a Holloway had eluded them, and Marius was sure Radiant Eirik would be honored to execute.

  But, despite himself, the thought of that sent a twinge of guilt through his heart. She was no more than an oblivious girl, completely clueless to the breadth of her father’s crimes and the extent of her powers. These unfortunate creatures would thank us if they could comprehend that we are cleansing them. His father had always said that and insisted it was true.