by Justin Sloan
Halfway to the water, several men with long jackets and long hair stepped into their path, some with their arms folded, others carrying sticks. One wore a gold bracelet and held a rifle.
“We’ve got a problem,” one in front shared. “See, we don’t like strangers in our town, and judging by your exclusive use of the common tongue, we’re guessing you aren’t from around here.”
“You’re speaking it too,” Cammie argued, eyeing the group to see if she wanted to start trouble. No sign that they were anything other than normal human, at least.
“I speak it when needed.” He stared, ice-blue eyes boring into her. “What’s your business here?”
“Let them be,” another man called from a window.
The blue-eyed man shouted something at him, then pulled a pistol from the back of his pants and aimed it at the man. It had the intended effect; the window emptied immediately.
“Back to what we were saying—”
A brick hit him upside the head, and down he fell. Everyone was looking around to see what had happened when the door of the house where the man had been burst open and he charged forward with two more bricks. The second brick thrown clocked the man with the rifle, hitting him in the neck. He staggered back, holding his throat and cursing, while the other men moved to get the attacker.
Cammie shared a look with Lillian, and saw that her dad had handed her his pistol and held a dagger himself.
Meanwhile, two more men from the town saw what was going on and ran over to help the one who had thrown the bricks, but the thug with the rifle had recovered and was starting to take aim. It had all happened in a blink of the eye, and Cammie knew she needed to stop it.
Instead of waiting for the man to act, she leaped, grabbing the brick, and spun to slam it into the man with the rifle. That was when she caught the whiff… Weres.
Dammit!
Three of the men had already torn off their clothes and transformed into their wolf form, and now the man with the rifle was smiling. He pulled the trigger as she threw the brick, bullet exploding the brick less than a foot from her face.
Two shots took him down, and she turned to see William with his rifle to his shoulder. Lillian was aiming the pistol, but she was shaking and one of the werewolves was going for her.
Elroy was barking like mad and Kristof’s voice shook as he told the dog everything would be okay.
Cammie had just started to transform when she thought better of it. They didn’t want the other people in his city, the good ones, think that she was one of these so-called gods. Get in, get Kristof home, and then get back to dealing with the bad guys; that was the goal.
What would they think of Kristof if he was brought back by a Were?
Instead, she changed only enough to do some damage. She let her claws grow and ran for the wolf that was almost on Lillian, grabbing it by the tail with one hand and yanking to get leverage as she dug her claws deep into its belly, letting its guts spill.
The other wolves turned to her, catching her scent. While half the men had seen that they were in trouble and fled, the other half were engaged in combat with the man from the window and his two helpers.
Lillian finally got a shot off, putting the downed Were out of his misery, and William was trying to get a clean shot without hitting the supposedly good ones.
“Keep Kristof back!” Cammie shouted. Both Lillian and her dad pressed against him, weapons at the ready.
At those words, one of the men from the alley turned and looked at them with wide eyes, only to catch a stick across the face. Cammie had the two Weres to deal with and as William shot one squarely between the eyes, she moved toward the other. A Were got in her way and she took him down, glad to hear the clatter of his stick.
She rolled back, grabbed the stick from the ground, and broke it in two. Just as the wolf reached her, she thrust half of the broken stick through each eye, deep—through bone and into brain—and the wolf fell to the ground, dead.
The man who had been hit in the face was struggling with the guy who had the stick, and there were still two more thugs. When they saw the other Weres down and what they were up against, however, they turned and fled, leaving only the man with the stick.
With a headbutt, the defender broke the other’s nose, pulled the stick away, and then whacked the guy in the throat.
“Do we chase them?” Cammie asked.
The man who now had the stick shook his head, looking at the dead Weres in awe. But that wasn’t what he cared about, apparently, because a moment later he looked up, searching the defenders, and said, “Kristof? Did someone say—”
“Here,” Lillian replied, and cautiously moved aside for them to see the boy.
The reaction was immediate. His stick dropped to the ground and the man who had thrown the brick ran toward the boy, only to be stopped by Elroy’s growling and barking.
“It’s okay, I know him!” Kristof told her, kneeling to pet Elroy and hold her back. “It’s okay, girl.”
“Kristof?” the man said. “Where? How?”
“We…found him,” Cammie answered.
“They saved me,” Kristof replied. “Then they flew all the way across the ocean to bring me back.”
The man shook his head, eyeing Cammie skeptically. “Nobody does that.”
She shrugged, feeling sheepish. “Call us old-fashioned, but we cared about a boy being with his family.”
“And all this?” He gestured around at the dead. “Not your first time dealing with them, is it?”
She shook her head, not offering anything more than that.
For a moment the man’s stare didn’t waver, but finally he blinked as if waking from some trance and a smile spread across his face. He turned to one of his buddies and gave him an order, pointing.
As the buddy ran off, the leader said, “Kristof’s sister doesn’t work very far away, and—”
He didn’t even have time to finish the sentence before a young woman came running around the corner, shrieking with joy. She picked up Kristof and spun him around, then put him back down and knelt at his side, hugging him so tightly it looked like she would never let him go. Others were starting to gather as well, looking around to see what the commotion had been.
The man spoke to some of the bystanders, and they quickly started moving the bodies, with Cammie’s help. Two more took charge of the one who was still alive, dragging him off to imprison him somewhere, Cammie imagined.
Kristof’s sister was speaking with him in Norwegian, but when Cammie passed she looked up at her and put a hand on her arm. “Thank you.” She looked at the others, too, lower lip trembling. “From the bottom of our hearts, thank you.”
“Yeah, well…”
Cammie was caught off-guard when the sister and Kristof both jumped up and hugged her, then pulled back and let Elroy into their midst, tail wagging. A glance at Lillian showed her trying to hold back tears, and she nodded in approval.
“What’ll happen here?” Cammie asked, nodding toward the blood.
Everyone shared nervous glances, but no one spoke.
Finally Lillian cleared her throat. “They were followers of the gods, men sent here to keep the city under control, am I right?”
The man with the stick nodded.
“Then they’ll come back with the gods, I imagine. Maybe tonight, maybe in a day, or a week. There will be a reckoning.”
“How many of these gods are we talking about?” Cammie asked.
The man scrunched his face. “Maybe twenty? Thirty?”
Damn. Without Valerie, Cammie wasn’t sure she could handle that many. As her mind raced to find a way to deal with the situation, she agreed to go with the group and get Kristof home.
Soon they had found his house and he was reunited with his whole family. The dining hall was cleared out at the local church so that the whole city could celebrate Kristof’s return.
“You must stay for the feast tonight,” Kristof’s father told them. “Get everyone else from
the ships—Lillian told me there were more—and bring them. It’ll be glorious!”
Cammie was about to refuse, but then she remembered it actually made sense to stay. If the gods sent just a few Weres, she and her sailors could help defend the city. That, and it was the one place they were expected to be, and Valerie knew that.
She would have to come through here, right?
“Deal,” Cammie agreed, smiling.
When the man had left to see to his son again, William asked what she was thinking.
“The plan is to wait for Valerie,” Cammie replied, then turned to Lillian. “Where are these gods, in relation to here?”
“Not far to the east,” Lillian answered.
“And the closest town of theirs? I mean, with the largest number of their followers?”
“West, actually.”
“See?” Cammie gloated, looking at William. “We’re right in the center. She’ll go for one of those two. We wait the night and help defend if necessary. She’ll be here.”
“Unless she’s totally lost,” he argued. “I mean, with all this nature around us, the idea isn’t completely improbable.”
“You clearly haven’t known Val as long as I have.” She started walking back to the ship. “Come on, let’s tell the others that they’re invited to a celebration. I, for one, am looking forward to it.”
And she really was. They had accomplished the half of the mission she cared most about, and was certain Valerie would find them by the night’s end.
During the feast Cammie constantly found her eyes wandering to the door of the great hall, hoping for any sign of Val, but she couldn’t deny the fun of the evening.
The feast and celebration were out of this world. Everything was different here, from the way they made lemon-baked cod, sprinkled with paprika, to their buried salmon, which confused Cammie but was to die for. As the first couple of courses came to an end, a husky man brought out an instrument they called a fiddle. It produced music that was very different from the banjo back on the island, but the excitement and dancing had a very familiar feel.
A home away from home, she thought. If there was a place she could live away from America, she could certainly see this being it.
After nightfall, Royland and a few of the others from the ship came, though they had promised the ones left on watch that they would switch out at some point to give them a chance to celebrate.
“This is them,” Kristof said, stepping up next to them with a tall, warrior-looking man at his side. His stark-blonde hair was slicked back, and he sported a red beard and a smile that made you feel at ease.
“My little brother’s saviors,” the man exclaimed, clapping Royland on the shoulder and then taking Cammie’s hand and shaking it vigorously. “The name’s Christian, by the way.”
“Brother?” Royland asked, looking Kristof’s way.
“Technically, no,” Kristof said.
Christian laughed. “But in my heart, he’ll always be my little brother. When we thought we’d lost him, I went after the men who took him…and got this instead.”
He pulled up the leg of his pants to reveal a wooden leg.
Kristof looked shocked at first, but then smiled. “It does make him look more exciting though, doesn’t it?”
Cammie laughed. “It certainly does.”
“Where are the men who did this to you?” Royland was far from laughing. He was glaring at the wooden leg.
Christian let the pant leg fall back down and considered the vampire. “What, you are going to deliver Kristof to us and then rid our little corner of the world of evil too?”
Royland slowly nodded. “Yes, I hope we can do exactly that.”
For a long couple of beats, Christian stared, lips pursed. Then he lifted his drink. “Well, cheers to that!” Chucking his cup to the side, he smiled widely. “Just don’t get yourself killed out there.”
“They can handle themselves, Brother,” Kristof said, serious as hell.
“Can they? Against the supposed gods?” Christian assessed Royland and Cammie again, then nodded. “Hell, I don’t know your secrets and don’t need to, but I have to warn you that this isn’t just some local group of thugs. These guys… It’s like the devil himself possessed their leader, and each of his followers is a demon with the strength of ten men.”
Royland nodded. “Which way?”
Christian nodded to one of the large windows to their right. “East, slightly northeast. You’ll find the gods out there…or they’ll find you.”
With a glance at Cammie to see if she objected, the vampire said, “We’ll do what we can, if our friend hasn’t already. But for now, I see a pretty woman over there who can’t seem to keep her eyes off you.”
“Her?” Christian nodded. “You could consider this our honeymoon, though I hope to do better soon. Just married.”
Kristof hit him. “You didn’t tell me!”
“You only just returned,” Christian countered in his own defense. “Come, let us celebrate. Talk of gods and death can be put off until afterward.”
They returned to the merriment, and Cammie couldn’t help but have an amazing time. It was helped by the fact that Royland was practically beaming. He had thought his farewell with Kristof on the ship would be the last time he saw the boy, but here they were, having the time of their lives. She was pretty sure that if it were possible, returning in the future wouldn’t just be a possibility but a necessity.
It was a night Cammie wished would have never ended, in part because she was so sure Valerie would arrive. When that didn’t happen, she was left very confused.
As she finally drifted off to sleep in that great hall, she told herself there was still hope. They would be up with the sunset, and would set off immediately to find her.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Meldal
Valerie’s journey to Meldal lasted two hours, though most of that was due to the mountainous terrain. She had no problem moving fast, but had to watch her footing to avoid falling.
Soon she found herself jogging past green fields that were squared off in what had once been farmland. The city looked normal, although it didn’t have much water around aside from a river due to its higher elevation. A gray church steeple rose above the other buildings, and she found herself enjoying the architecture of the old buildings.
She walked right into town, not waiting to see if the people would address her or attack when they saw her. She knew it had been their ships she had downed the night before, their people she had killed. They would be weakened, confused.
So when she saw a man pushing a wheelbarrow of beets and potatoes down the street, she simply smiled and kept walking. He stared at her in shock, then quickly ran into a nearby building.
Her hope was that he would alert the others, because she really didn’t want to drag this out any longer than necessary. A sign caught her attention and she paused, staring at it. The wooden carving of a wolf hung above the door, its eyes painted red. Now that she had noticed it, the signs were everywhere. More wolves, some painted on canvas near a bakery, in a very rustic style.
Many buildings had laundry drying from lines tied between them, sheets flapping in the wind, and she wondered if the overall darkness in the city was natural or an effect of the overcast sky.
“Something you like there?” a woman asked, and Valerie turned to see a woman in her mid-thirties, wearing a thick fur coat. She was covered in tattoos, but they were not random designs. Hers were intricately patterned such as one would expect to see in old Norse paintings, only each had the common theme of a wolf.
Valerie nodded. “Very much so.”
“Are you...familiar with our ways? You don’t sound local.”
“Some of my best friends are wolves, as a matter of fact. But no, I hear you have a different approach than I do.”
“Approach? We simply recognize power where power resides, and respect it. If gods have been born among us, we raise them to the position of authority they deserve.�
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“Ah, then I’m in the right place. If you all appreciate power, well…seeing as you already know about the supposed UnknownWorld, here’s what I’d like to do.” She let her eyes turn red, then smiled as her fangs grew long. “Tell me where I might find these so-called gods of yours, then stop worshiping them and never attack innocents or partake in piracy or banditry again.”
The lady blinked, caught totally off-guard, and took a step back. “What are you?”
“The Enforcer of Justice. I’ve sailed across the ocean to ensure innocents are safe and reclaim honor for my kind, but I’ve heard tales of wrongdoing by your people. Have I been misinformed?”
She took another step back, eyes darting to the doorways of the nearby buildings from which other men and women were emerging. Valerie sensed their fear and hostility, and she could smell their steel. They were coming to fight.
“You sent out fighters yesterday.” Valerie spoke loudly enough for those nearby to hear. “They won’t be returning.”
“And why is that?” This time it was a man who asked. He had tattoos much like the woman’s, but the designs covered his face as well. He even had red wolf eyes tattooed above his eyebrows.
“They attacked. They were killed.”
“By you?”
“By me.” Valerie turned, letting them all see what she was. “Tell your gods I’m here and I’m waiting. It’s either that or I send them a message myself, though I have to warn you that mine will be written in blood.”
“The gods grant us their powers,” the man snarled, quickly popping something into his mouth.
Valerie was pretty sure that it was the drugs she had already experienced. It started to click now—they worshiped the Weres because they wanted to be them. Maybe they could earn their place, prove themselves. The Weres had promised that they would convert them, give them their powers. In the meantime, these people were granted extra strength by their gods, strength that came from this drug.
“If you’re going to come at me now, I have to warn you—your friends took the drug too. It didn’t help them.”
“I don’t believe you.” The man scoffed. “When they return, we’ll roast your corpse for dinner and see if you taste half as bad as the shit coming out of your mouth.”
