“So he’s back? What made him change his mind?” Teag asked. “And he’s the reason for all of this?” Anthony eyed him worriedly, but Teag gave a barely visible shake of his head. An unspoken conversation passed between them, and Anthony sat back, trusting that Teag was recovered enough to manage.
“I don’t know,” Sorren replied. “I’m convinced someone else is involved, someone who’s gotten Holmgang’s attention and offered him something he wants. Donnelly and I have been off trying to find out if anyone had been interfering in the old spells, or if we could find proof that Holmgang might be stirring.”
“And what did you find?” I couldn’t help being equally fascinated and frightened.
“Someone has definitely been mucking around where they didn’t belong,” Donnelly answered, and his bushy gray eyebrows gathered together like storm clouds. He might sometimes look the part of a Victorian explorer—pith helmet and all—but beneath the appearances, he was one seriously scary man.
“If you know there’s a dark witch, can’t you track his—or her—magic?” Teag asked, glancing to Rowan.
“She’s a capable practitioner,” Rowan replied with a shrug. “I doubt she’s got the power to control Holmgang for long if she can actually summon him, but she’s more than able to shield her magic. We’re not even sure where to begin looking.”
“Do you think she was the one draining power from the objects at the Museum and Archive, and stoking bad energy with the cursed bits of cloth we found all over the city?” I asked.
“Very likely,” Rowan answered. “That sounds like the kind of thing a witch like that would do to enhance her power.”
“The items that went missing from both places were supposed to have a Viking heritage,” I added. “A ceremonial dagger and a brooch. They both had a strong resonance, although I’m not sure either were magic.”
“They might have meaning to Holmgang, or to someone wanting to gain his support,” Sorren said. “I doubt that their disappearance is a coincidence.”
“I’ve had dreams of a man in an iridescent black cloak, with a head like a raven,” Teag said, dropping his gaze. “A big man, with a long wooden staff. I see him loosen the knots of the cords tied to his staff, and dark spirits come out of the knots. Did I imagine it?”
Sorren shook his head. “No. That is Holmgang, as I last saw him. The raven head is an illusion, the hood of his cloak. He enjoys inspiring fear. His power is in his staff and in the cords where he stores magic and traps the land sprites he’s bent to his will.” He looked at Teag with concern. “You dreamt of him? When did this start?”
“It’s been a few weeks since the dreams have gotten bad,” Teag admitted. “Worse than nightmares. Very vivid, and always the same. I see men and animals hanging from trees, high on a hill in a barren, rocky land. The man in the black cloak with the hood is there, in charge of the sacrifice. I can sense his power. And then he turns around, and he’s looking right at me, and I swear that even though it’s a dream, he can see me for real. I start running, and he follows me into the fog. He’s about to grab me when I wake up.”
Teag was trembling, and his voice had grown tight as he recounted the night terror. “I’m always afraid that one of these times, he’s going to catch me.”
Donnelly nodded. “You’re right to be afraid. That’s not a dream. That’s a sending. You’ve caught his attention, and that’s not a good thing.”
“Go back to the part about the land sprites,” I said. “They sound like they could be trouble.”
“The Seiðrs were from a people who lived very close to the land and its energies,” Sorren replied. “Their magic is tied into rock and water, trees and wind. Primal. Elemental. The good Seiðrs found sprites and other spirits who worked with them willingly. But men like Holmgang feel the need to break and control everything they touch.”
“Are the sprites dangerous?” I asked.
“Extremely.”
“So what can we do about it?” Anthony asked. “The dreams, and this Holmgang person?”
“I’ve gathered some items that might be of help,” Sorren replied. “A chalice for scrying, a bone wand carved with runes, and the agate spindle whorl that I entrusted to you, Cassidy.”
My hand closed around the smooth stone in my pocket. “Several times now, the dark Weaver magic reacted pretty violently when I drew on the spindle whorl,” I said. “That’s something I haven’t seen before.”
“Alard left me that spindle whorl, along with the bone wand, when I inherited his possessions,” Sorren replied. “He’d also left me a very helpful protective vest, but it did not survive six hundred years of use. The chalice I came by through other means, though it is Viking-made, and carved with runes and sigils.”
“Holmgang was a Seiðr —does that mean he was also a Weaver witch?” Teag asked.
“Yes. That’s how he was able to store energy and bind the land sprites in his knotted cords,” Sorren said.
“So why would he want me? I’m not strong enough to be a threat.”
“If he can sense your power, then he may see the potential for you to become a threat in the future,” Donnelly said. “Or he might hope to take you and break you to serve him, letting him draw from your magic to add to his own.”
Anthony tightened his arm around Teag protectively. Teag’s expression suggested he had already considered those possibilities. “So that’s what he wanted tonight? To kidnap me and use my magic?”
“It’s a logical guess,” Rowan said. “Holmgang is used to taking what he wants.”
“The last time I fought him, I had a powerful ally,” Sorren said. “A sorceress—a Volva—named Secona.”
“Secona?” Alicia looked up. She had been quiet, listening to the conversation around her, but now her expression was urgent. “That’s the spirit who wants to speak through me.”
Chapter Thirteen
Everyone stopped and stared at Alicia. Sorren’s look of surprise struck me as amusing, despite the gravity of the situation, because my vampire boss always seemed completely in control.
“Can we be sure it’s really Secona?” Sorren asked, glancing at Donnelly.
Donnelly frowned and turned his attention to Alicia. He stared past her as if finding the space surrounding her to be utterly fascinating. “I see a woman in a blue cloak with a black and white fur headpiece. She has a long mantle, set with what look like jewels, and strings of glass beads around her neck. The staff she carries has cords wrapped around it, and her spirit radiates power, even in the afterlife.”
“That’s Secona,” Sorren replied. “Exactly as I remember her.”
Alicia’s expression revealed both caution and determination. “If I let her in, will she leave?”
“One person can never guarantee the actions of another,” Sorren said. “But she showed great honor, in my experience.”
“I can dispel a spirit that overstays its welcome, though the process is unlikely to be pleasant—for you or for the spirit,” Donnelly replied.
“She says she understands,” Alicia answered.
“If you can speak for her, why does she need to possess you?” Teag asked, concerned.
“Because she can advise from a distance, but she needs a body to work her magic,” Alicia replied.
“And are you willing to be possessed?” Donnelly asked, regarding Alicia thoughtfully, as if taking her measure.
“If it will stop what’s going on.” Alicia raised her head defiantly. “Although I want my body back when we’re done. Preferably undamaged.”
“Has she given you her word that she will depart when the danger is over?” Sorren questioned. “She is bound by her oath.”
Alicia went silent, and her eyes took on a far-away gaze as if deep in thought. “Yes,” she responded. “I have her vow.”
“It’s up to you,” Teag said.
“I accept.”
One moment, Alicia was herself, quiet and reserved. In the next moment, everything about her changed, from
the expression on her face to the way she held herself, to an ineffable “something” that made it clear that the being in charge of Alicia’s body was no longer Alicia.
“Your friend is unharmed,” Secona spoke with an air of authority, drawing herself up straight and lifting her chin imperiously. “If we must fight, I cannot assure she will not be damaged, but my presence will not injure her, and I have no desire to stay beyond my welcome.”
Sorren clasped his hands in front of him and gave a shallow bow. “Secona. It’s good to see you again.”
Secona’s gaze swept over Sorren, and a smile touched her lips. “Sorren. You look much the same.”
“Thanks to the Dark Gift.”
Secona grew somber. “We must talk about Holmgang.”
Sorren and the others found seats or brought in chairs and gathered ‘round. Donnelly remained nearby, quietly monitoring. I sat beside Alicia/Secona on the couch and fought the disquieting sense that while she looked like my friend, my instincts told me this was a very different person.
“What brought him back?” Sorren asked. “When I bested him in the duel, I thought that settled the matter between us; the grudge left over from Alard’s win.”
“You did. By one of the few traditions Holmgang still held sacred, he was honor bound to walk away, and pursue the matter no longer.”
“Then why—” Teag began.
“He was summoned,” Secona replied. “Holmgang had grown weary, as most immortals eventually do. He withdrew to a place of solitude, and I hoped he would remain there. But now, an accomplice aids his return. I believe a witch sought him out, and I fear what his goal may be once he has regained his strength.”
“Can you find the witch?” I asked. Secona’s eyes were ancient, and I wondered how much of Alicia remained aware inside.
“She is protected,” Secona answered. “The magic shielding her is clever, difficult to track. I pick up glimpses, but not enough to identify her or know where she is hiding.”
“What of the Wild Hunt?” Teag asked. “How does that connect?”
Secona paused, deep in thought. “Even at full power, Holmgang alone cannot hope to conquer and rule. But if he bound a force of chaos to his bidding, he could draw more energy from its magic and wield it like a weapon against his enemies. So he may benefit from the Hunt, but I don’t believe he calls to it.”
“So someone else, perhaps the one who summoned him, is controlling the Hunt?” Rowan asked.
“A possibility,” Secona replied. “Although I don’t believe anyone can control the Wild Hunt except for its master. The Hunt has always existed, and it always will. It is a force of nature, like the tides. But the wind and tides can be harnessed, by a ship or a windmill, and used in service of a goal. We must look more closely at the Hunt. I believe it will provide the link we seek to find out who has woken Holmgang, and why he has been called.”
“How is it possible for a witch to hide from all of you?” I asked. Donnelly and Rowan were practitioners are exceptional power. Secona, now able to channel her magic through Alicia’s human form, also had very strong magic. I couldn’t imagine how the witch summoning Holmgang could hide that kind of expenditure of energy.
Rowan shrugged. “Regular criminals learn how to distract notice from their activities. They hide a van with stolen goods in a fleet of cars, bury illegal financial transactions in a slew of honest ones, ship a single crate of contraband on a freighter filled with thousands of identical boxes. My guess is that she—or he—is doing the magic at times when enough energy ‘noise’ makes it difficult to parse out a single signal.”
“The phases of the moon. High and low tide. Or strong ‘natural’ magic like the passing of the Wild Hunt,” Teag replied, looking up to meet Rowan’s gaze. She nodded.
“Exactly. Because those occurrences bring a natural energy surge, it’s like trying to pick out a single voice in the crowd at a loud concert. Difficult, especially when you’re not sure exactly what to look for,” Rowan said.
“Earlier this evening, something tried to grab me,” Teag said, addressing Secona. “Was it Holmgang? What would he want with me?”
She gave him a pitying look. “His magic would be far more powerful if he took a hostage that already possessed power of its own. To use as a container in which to store extra energy for a big salvo.”
“Oh, hell no!” Anthony replied, holding tight to Teag’s hand. “That’s not going to happen. He’s not going to turn you into some kind of magic battery.”
Rowan started to speak but stopped as she looked at Baxter, who had risen to his feet and growled, then barked an ear-splitting alarm. I picked him up to sooth him and realized he was trembling despite his defense. The lights flickered, and it sounded as if a hurricane wind buffeted the house, banging the shutters and whistling around the eaves.
Sorren moved to look out the window, standing to the side so he did not present an easy target. “It’s not the real wind,” he reported. “Nothing in the garden is moving. But something is testing the wardings, pushing against them to see if they’ll break.”
“Will they?” Anthony flinched as something else clattered outside.
I felt a prickle of energy up my spine, but felt no fear, because the power rising came from the potent protections that had been raised around the house and reinforced week after week, year after year.
“Oh, they’ll hold,” Donnelly assured him. “Individually, the wardings are strong. Woven together, reinforcing each other—it would take more than Holmgang to undo them.”
“We don’t dare let Holmgang get his hands on Teag,” Sorren said, ignoring the howl of the assault outside. “Just like we must not permit Holmgang and his accomplice to tap the full power of the Wild Hunt for their own purposes.”
“How do we keep Teag safe?” Anthony asked. I knew he cared about the big picture, saving the world, but I also knew that for him, none of it mattered if Teag came to harm.
“Until we stop Holmgang, I suggest that Teag remains here, within the wardings,” Donnelly replied. Teag moved to argue, but Donnelly held up a hand. “Anthony, too. He would make a tempting hostage.”
“I can’t stay inside while the rest of you take risks to stop the threat,” Teag countered. “Surely there’s another way.”
“When the time comes for battle, my magic would be stronger if I inhabited the body of a true Weaver,” Secona said. “This host is willing and healthy, but her magic does not amplify mine the way yours would.”
“Is that possible?” I asked. “Teag isn’t a medium.” The furor outside had grown loud enough that I had to raise my voice to be heard. I’d weathered hurricanes in this house, and I’d heard the wind roar by like a freight train, or the rain lash against the walls in deafening pulses. But the power that besieged us now was different, unnatural. I realized that Rowan had begun to chant quietly under her breath and that Donnelly’s eyes had taken on a glassy look as if his thoughts were elsewhere. They’re reinforcing the wardings, I thought. Despite their assurances, they’re hedging their bets.
“It could work,” Secona assured. “He must be willing, and lower his mental barriers to permit me to enter him. All my promises would remain, that I would not outstay my welcome.” Her lip twisted. “I would find such a host less…comfortable.”
I took her meaning immediately. In her time, a male Seiðr had been anathema, and she might feel that taking on a man’s body somehow sullied her power. As if she guessed my thoughts, Secona turned to me.
“I long ago moved beyond the prejudices of my people,” she said. “Holmgang is evil because he wishes to control and dominate, not because he is a man with magic. The gods give power to whom they choose. I am comfortable as a woman, and being ‘other’ feels strange to me, like wearing someone else’s clothing. Sufficient to the task, but not something I would care to do indefinitely.”
I saw Anthony bristle at the thought of someone else’s spirit slipping inside Teag as casually as trying on a suit or a coat. Anthony o
pened his mouth but stopped as Teag twined their fingers together and met his gaze.
“I don’t like it either,” Teag said quietly. “But it makes sense. And if it can stop Holmgang and his witch, it seems like a huge payback for a little bit of discomfort.”
“You won’t be you,” Anthony said quietly.
“Just for a little while. Only when we face him. Not for long, I hope. We can do this,” Teag replied, turning toward Anthony and dropping his voice. “Trust me.”
Outside, the assault stopped as abruptly as it began. I felt the shift like a change in air pressure as if my ears would pop. I looked up. “Is he gone?”
Rowan stopped murmuring her incantation and paused like she was “listening” for the dark magic outside. “For now. He’s withdrawn, and I can’t find him.”
“He’s gone,” Donnelly confirmed. “And we will figure out how to locate him. He and his witch will slip up. Power leaves a trail that’s impossible to eradicate completely. Now that we know what to look for, we’ll find traces of that trail and follow it to him.” The set of his jaw told me that Donnelly now considered this to be personal. “When we do—we’ll finish this.”
A knock at the door drew our attention. I went to answer, as Sorren moved back to look out the window. With the wardings still intact, only a small number of people could get through to reach my front door. Mrs. Teller stood on the porch as I opened the door.
“Cassidy. I’ve narrowed it down. I think I know who the Weaver witch behind all this might be.”
Chapter Fourteen
I welcomed Mrs. Teller and stepped aside to usher her into the living room. She smiled as she saw the group assembled there.
“Well, this saves time. I won’t have to say things twice,” she said. Donnelly stood to offer her his chair, and she sat, folding her hands in her lap.
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