“They want to spy on me,” Annie said.
Bega nodded.
“Do they know I’m supposed to die?” Annie asked.
“I do not know if Gila shared that with them. I know they’re frightened,” Bega said.
“Tell Etheldreda and the rest of the coven to back off and not get in my way.”
Bega nodded.
“Oh. Tell them if they don’t fix the protection spell, there’s going to be another attack. The rips are nearly at the ground,” Annie warned.
Bega glanced back at the trees. “How can you tell?” she asked.
Annie looked at the trees, at the leaves and branches. “I see a golden pink mist that’s weaving in and out of the branches. Some areas have thinned considerably and other areas have holes. The demons sleep at the edge, just against the spell,” she explained.
Bega walked to the perimeter and touched the trees at the edge. She seemed surprised to see how many lived so close to the edge of the trees. When a demon woke and lunged at the protection spell, Bega cried out and ran for the cottage, slamming the door shut behind her.
“At least the spell held,” Bega said as she breathed heavily.
Annie chuckled. “Yes. That is a good thing. We’re about to eat. Would you like to join us? It’s not much.”
Gibbs and Brite ate at the table, easily polishing off their sandwiches. Annie and Bega sat on the bed. Bega stared at the sandwich, pulled the top slice of bread off, and looked at the meat inside. “What is this?” she asked.
“It’s called a turkey sandwich,” Annie replied. She took a bite of her own and chewed it slowly.
Bega watched Annie take a second bite and tried what she did. After swallowing, she took another bite. “It is good,” she said when she swallowed.
“We have more.” Brite crumpled up his garbage and tossed it in the fire.
“This is good. Thank you,” Bega said again. “They want to know what you were doing in the forest.”
Annie raised her eyes brows. “They seem to care an awful lot for not wanting to help.”
“They are worried and want to make sure you are safe,” Bega said.
“They only want the demons killed. They just want to make sure the deed is done,” Annie said. “We’re planning to collect the blood tomorrow morning and we needed to plan how that was going to happen. If they want the demons gone and us back to the present, then we need three witches or wizards to help with the plan. The magic is just too much for us. I’m not asking.”
Bega nodded. “I can arrange that for you.”
The rain was momentarily replaced by pea-sized hail, which beat against the thatched roof and mud walls. After an instant, it stopped and the rain returned, bringing with it clouds so gray, the village was plunged in darkness.
The rain whipped through the tiny village, blowing the rain sideways into the trees and awakening the demons. They grunted and growled angrily, as if forced awake. Annie stood at the window peering into the trees, growing anxious at the sight of their orange eyes staring back at her.
“What do you see?” Brite joined her.
“They’re nocturnal and go by the light of the sun. It’s very dark,” Gibbs said.
“I don’t like this,” Annie said. In theory and principle, weather shouldn’t affect magic, and yet, she could clearly see the winds battering the spell and ripping through protection. “Tell the coven they need to place more magic at the perimeter now.” Annie looked at Bega. “Go!” she shouted.
A terrified, naked shrill echoed from the distance, followed by rumbling of the earth and chaotic hollering and screeching.
“What the hell was that!” Annie shrieked.
Brite yanked open the door. “It’s coming from Jorvik!” They ran from the cottage, joined by the coven, and rushed down the narrow path.
Mass chaos met them when they entered the city limits. Men, women, and children scurried from the demons, their terror-filled cries seeming to fuel the beasts’ determination. Creatures easily snatched the humans, snapping their necks, and biting into their fresh flesh. Mutilated bodies were tossed to the ground.
Annie, Gibbs and Brite ran into the fray and threw fireballs at the nearest demons. While their magic was not at its normal strength, the flames easily burned through the demon’s skin and flesh. The demons shrieked in pain. “Burn them with fire!” Annie screamed as she threw another fireball.
As they spread themselves out around Jorvik, the fireballs roared around her and demons burst into flame, popping like a grotesque video game. Vikings retreated from the demons in a haphazard manner, running in circles with no protected building in which to hide.
Annie frantically scanned the chaos for Kolgaar and Sturtagaard, for the king and his family. In the bedlam of the attack, she couldn’t find any of them.
They should be going somewhere safe!
She ran for Brite, “Corral them into the longhouse.” Brite nodded and left for the Vikings pulling them to safety.
Thunder clapped above them. The rain pounded Jorvik as if it could wash the scene clean. Annie glanced at the darkened sky.
Safe in the thunder. Wait a little longer, dad. We need to burn them.
Annie ran and tossed a fireball at a demon as it reached for an elderly man. The Viking male was thin and fragile in appearance only. He was determined to beat the demon off of him with a sharp stick. The weapon reminded Annie of a javelin, but she knew it was something else. The demon burned beside the elderly man. Annie helped the man up. “Run for the longhouse, now!” she shouted. The old man limped away, injured and bloody, his left arm hanging beside him.
Annie reached for the magical energy around her, gathering a strong and large fireball. It hung above her palm. Her heart sped up as she released it on the next demon. It howled in pain.
With each new fireball that hit a demon, thick, sodden ash billowed upwards and rained from the sky in wet clumps, covering her hair and clothes. Annie scanned the fight and the forest; hungry, angry demons flooded Jorvik, focused specifically on killing the humans.
Her fireballs grew in strength and accuracy. The more the demons ran, the more the fire consumed them, the more they brushed flames and embers from their thin linen clothing, and the faster they burned. They cried, shrieked, roared with the pain, and the sounds hung in the air.
Annie stumbled across the blood-soaked earth.
A child’s distressed wails pulled Annie away. Reaching him felt like she was in a slow-motion film. All of two years old, the boy shrieked when he was torn from his mother’s arms. Annie ran for the demon and threw successive jinxes at the massive beast, hoping it would release its hold on the boy.
She was joined by the boy’s father, who pounded at the creature with a large, wooden bat. The demon ignored the screaming father and the crying mother and bit into the boy’s neck. He shrieked. In desperation to save him, Annie cast a fireball and threw it on the demon’s foot. But the little boy was already dead when he hit the ground.
Blood seeped from the deep wound in the boy’s neck and swirled in the puddle beside his dead body. It mixed with the ash becoming a thick soupy mess. Reluctantly, Annie looked at his parents; the father’s face was eerily familiar. Long, black hair, dark blue eyes devoid of life, skin so pale he could have been…
Sturtagaard glared at the girl who was meant to put an end to this madness. His pain and anger exploded in that moment. Annie felt vulnerable in his gaze.
Sturtagaard told me his wife and child were killed.
“You need to go to the longhouse. Now!” Annie shouted, pushing them away from their son. “Go!”
Sturtagaard finally moved his feet as he held his inconsolable wife and ran with her to the longhouse.
Annie wiped away the tears and pulled the boy from the stampede of humans and demons. She gently lay him against the cottage wall.
I was supposed to end this!
She looked at the scene, at the death, at the unstoppable force of the human-demon hybrid. An
nie’s chest tightened, and she stumbled in the mud. The world spun around her, causing colors to swirl. She fell to her knees with the weight of the boy’s death choking her.
When she looked up, Jorvik was still being overrun by demons.
Rain pelted Annie’s face, she stared at the sky as the thunder clapped and rang in her ears. She closed her eyes and sniffed the air. “Dad,” she whispered; she felt his hand on her shoulder pulling her up.
Fire lit up Jorvik as the demons burst into flames. Fire crackled their bones and left a rancid stench of burnt flesh enveloping them. The one-sided attack didn’t kill the coven’s determination to not die that day. They linked their arms, becoming a human wall, and used their strength to corral and surround the demons. Annie joined the end of the line. The coven became one with the magical energy surrounding Jorvik, creating a large conduit for the magic. Full of energy, fear, and anger, they cast their fireballs.
The creatures, too unsophisticated to understand anything but the pain, scattered across Jorvik. Hot, orange flames ate away at their flesh. Annie felt their screams in her bones.
The massive fire was enough for the remaining demons to retreat into the forest.
The coven and the Vikings watched in stunned silence as the demons were eviscerated. Annie shuddered and trembled as the rain assailed her skin. She held herself against the nearest cottage. Coven members walked through the village searching for demon parts, digging with sticks through thick piles of mushy ash. What they found, they set on fire. Human bodies were removed and laid at the edge of town in a field of wildflowers.
Annie let go of the cottage, faltering across the muddy paths. Vikings cautiously exited the longhouse to assess the damage and deal with the dead. Annie was singularly focused on the boy, Sturtagaard’s son.
Whatever hatred for Sturtagaard that she came here with was momentarily pushed aside as she found his son where she left him. With what little strength she had left, Annie knelt beside the body and gently cradled the toddler as she carried him to the edge of town.
“My boy!” Annie jumped. Sturtagaard yanked him from her. “You’ve done enough,” he growled at her and lovingly held his son, crying into his muddied hair. He placed the boy next in the line of bodies that would be burned tonight. She stepped back, growing more fearful of Sturtagaard’s rage.
“Annie!”
She turned.
Brite ran for her, protectively putting an arm around her shoulders. “We get the blood tomorrow and end this,” he said.
She nodded. “I watched a demon kill Sturtagaard’s son,” she said and shuddered.
Brite enveloped her. “There wasn’t anything you could do. You knew he lost his family to the demons. We can’t change things.” Rain pelleted them for several more minutes as the cleanup continued.
Chapter 26
A low, soft din filled the longhouse. Images were dark and blurry as they whipped across the room. Annie slumped against the wall in an empty corner and waved away help and food. She closed her eyes, but it did little to erase the memories of the battle.
“We could use your help,” Gibbs said when he found Annie turned away from the room.
“I failed.” Annie began to cry. The sight of the blood and the injured and the memories of the boy taken from his mother left her nauseated.
“Boo fucking hoo. You didn’t create the monsters,” Gibbs reprimanded.
Annie looked passed him, finding Etheldreda and Bega administering care to the coven and Vikings. The old woman healed wounds with skill as the young girl kept up, mopping foreheads, and cleaning wounds.
“Girl, what the hell’s your problem?” He pulled her chin toward him and stared at her, leaving her uncomfortably vulnerable.
“I failed. This is my fault. I should have forced them to fix that protection spell,” Annie said.
“Get over yourself.”
“Go to hell,” she countered.
Gibbs sat beside her. “Someone created those demons. It wasn’t you. You’re up against a Viking stronghold that invaded England and a coven that created the demons, probably to get rid of the Vikings. Now both hate each other and find themselves stuck with each other. We killed a lot of demons today.”
“A lot of people died today and a lot of demons escaped,” Annie said. She rubbed her temples.
“They understand the nature of the fire and retreated. We should be safe for now,” Gibbs said.
Annie wiped rainwater and tears from her cheeks and turned from him.
“Get a grip. You look like hell. What happened to you out there?” Gibbs asked.
“Exhausted from the magic,” Annie said.
“Bullshit, girl. What happened out there?” Gibbs touched her shoulder. She looked at him with red, watery eyes.
“I watched a demon kill my enemy’s son.” She took a breath.
“He said they died during this time,” Gibbs reminded her.
The weight of history felt heavy in her chest; she couldn’t breathe. “I now understand what I should have before I came here. Everything, everything that I touch can change the future. Before we left, I had Sturtagaard under a stake, ready to kill him. Ryan stopped me. And as I left, I implied I’d just kill his human self to make up for what he started.” Annie wiped mud from her engagement ring. “It was the first time I ever saw Sturtagaard scared. And knowing that made me feel strong. But here, seeing history unfold in real time, I know I can’t. I know his wife and child die now. I can’t kill him just because of what he did. But knowing all that doesn’t make it any easier watching that boy die.” Annie sighed.
“So you’ve matured in the last few days, girl,” he said.
“You can start calling me Annie,” she groused.
Gibbs never chuckled until that moment. “Fine… Annie.” He took her hand. “You weren’t supposed to save his child. You knew this. You also know this is the trigger for what’s to come. Even if that means your parents are still dead.”
“Ouch,” Annie said.
“Do you want me to coddle you?”
Annie chuckled. “No. I hear you. It just doesn’t help.”
Gibbs grumbled and placed a thin yet muscular arm around her shoulders.
Annie lay her head on his shoulder and scanned the longhouse. Unexpectedly, she met Sturtagaard’s glare and shuddered. “He held onto that anger and fury for eleven hundred years. I can’t imagine living with that for so long. That’s all he is—pain and fury. I guess when you only live a natural lifetime of, what, maybe seventy-five years, you might appreciate the time you have more and in that and learn to do something good with anger,” Annie said.
“Like you did after your dad died.” Gibbs found Sturtagaard and his unmistakable sneer; his jaw tightened and the cords in his neck throbbed when he saw the future vampire. “You need to have either me or Brite by your side at all times. Sturtagaard’s becoming a problem,” Gibbs said.
“I’m okay with that.” Annie shivered and rubbed her arms for warmth. “Ironically, had I saved his son, his anger and fury wouldn’t have consumed him and my parents would be alive.” She chuckled softly.
“You’re not responsible,” Gibbs said.
Annie pulled away. “I’m not saying I am. I’m just saying that my inability to do this started him down a path. My astral projection in the fire marked me for the prophecy. It’s just maddeningly ironic. I didn’t have to kill the man, just save the boy.”
“And now we see just how much damage we can cause by being here,” Gibbs said.
“Yeah. I’m guessing when I did this the first time, or… damn, this is weird.”
“It is. So, when this went down in the ninth century in the first place…” Gibbs tried.
“When it happened in the ninth century, I probably didn’t have what I needed to do this job. I’m guessing that didn’t change. The seer said I should die because of the power.” Annie said.
“That can be changed,” Gibbs said.
Annie rested her head in her hands.
“Play on your terms. You know their end game, so don’t let them win. Concentrate on what you can control. The blood, the spell. That’s it,” Gibbs said.
She had never known Gibbs as a comforting sort, but tonight, she found him to be so. “Thanks,” she said.
“You need to eat. Gain your strength. We have a final battle to wage. Sooner rather than later, I think.” Gibbs helped her up and she teetered with her first step. “You’re already smarter than them. Don’t forget it.”
She leaned on Gibbs as they joined Bega and Etheldreda assisting with injuries.
“Bega, Etheldreda,” Annie said.
“Anaise, are you feeling better? We were rather worried,” Bega said.
“I’m fine. How bad have the injuries been?”
They sat Annie at the bench beside them.
“It’s not as bad as the last attack, now that we know how to stop them,” Bega said. The girl offered a wan smile, hiding her fear and exhaustion. She continued to nurse a small child in her care. “Over here. Sit over here,” she murmured to the child as she guided him to the ground.
“I knew the protection spell was waning. I should have insisted you fix it when I saw it or I should have fixed it,” Annie murmured.
“What’s done is done. We expected too much from you. You will heal and then kill them. We’ll send you home,” Etheldreda said. She held the arm of a young man whose forearm had been cut when a demon lashed out. She held her hand above the deep gash, attempting to heal the skin.
“Don’t misjudge your descendants. I’m perfectly capable.” Annie leaned in to look at the deep wound. “He needs stitches,” Annie said.
“What, dear?” Etheldreda asked.
“It’s…” Annie began. Etheldreda stared at her with anticipation. “You mind if I take a crack?” Annie took Etheldreda’s spot and summoned her field pack. Inside, she found her basic medical kit. She examined the man’s deep gash. She cleaned the wound with water, administered a numbing agent, set up the needle and thread, and began to stitch up the wound. “What’s your name?” Annie asked.
He glanced at her with fear and confusion, then said, “William.”
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