by Grant, Donna
Jarin studied them a moment. “What happened here?”
“Nothing,” one replied.
The other swallowed, his gaze lowering to the ground.
Jarin pointed to the ash with his staff. “That is ash from a witch. Which of you will tell me what happened?”
“They were witches?” the second asked in a hoarse whisper.
“William,” the first man chided.
But William ignored his friend when Jarin nodded his answer. The man licked his lips. “She came upon us out of nowhere. She made it so I couldn’t move, but I saw everything. She had h-him.”
“Stop,” the other man said and turned away.
“The second woman came up from behind us,” William continued. “She went straight for the first one, and the two fought. The newcomer killed the other with purple things that sank into the woman. It looked as if she burned up from the inside.”
Jarin bowed his head at the men. “You were fortunate this night.”
“She’s hurt,” the first man said, his back still to Jarin. “The second woman. She’s hurt.”
Jarin looked at the snow-covered ground that showed no tracks. He spotted Valdr sniffing a tree. “Which way did she go?”
Both men pointed behind and to the left of Jarin. Without another word, he headed in that direction. Instantly, Valdr was by his side. The wolf had a scent, and he was pursuing it. It wasn’t the first time the wolf had helped Jarin track someone, and no doubt it wouldn’t be the last.
The duo moved swiftly over the land, with Andi calling out often from above. When dawn arrived, Jarin paused long enough to drink deeply from a stream. Valdr was next to him, lapping at the water, his gaze on the opposite bank, scanning for anything.
Jarin gave a nod to the wolf when he finished refreshing himself. They started off again. After two hours, Valdr suddenly stopped, his ears pricked forward, his gaze directly ahead.
Jarin put his hand on the animal and waited for Valdr to decide when to continue. There was much Jarin could do with magic, but animals saw and smelled the world differently. He trusted both Valdr and Andi with his life.
Finally, the wolf moved forward. He was cautious, stealthy, and Jarin made sure to act accordingly. When he caught sight of the rock formation, he realized that the witch must have gone there to tend to her wounds.
Valdr led the way to the opening of a cave. It was dark inside, no fire, and no embers. Jarin thought perhaps the witch had moved on, but the wolf’s attention remained on something in the shelter.
Jarin walked forward. In five steps, he’d cleared the opening. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. When they did, he saw Valdr lying next to a form huddled into a ball, shivering uncontrollably.
He inched closer as the wolf lay his head on the ground and blinked. Jarin couldn’t see much of anything about who the witch was with the way her dark brown cloak was pulled over her head.
That’s when Jarin realized that the wolf was using his body heat to warm her. Whoever she was, she hadn’t used any magic for a fire. If he didn’t know she’d fought a Coven member, he might think that she didn’t know how to use magic.
But the simple fact was...she did. And that meant she knew the Coven could track it, so she hadn’t chanced using more.
He sighed and leaned his staff against the cave wall as he lowered himself to the ground. The Coven was unable to track Varroki magic as yet, so he didn’t hesitate to start a fire.
It took hours before the woman stopped shivering. Even then, Valdr wouldn’t leave her side. Andi was perched on a rock right at the entrance of the cave, and the falcon stared at the woman for a long time.
Jarin stretched out his legs and crossed his ankles. He’d known when he felt the Coven magic that it wasn’t strong enough to be Sybbyl’s, but he’d gone anyway. It was his duty to stop any Coven member. He hadn’t expected to find a second witch.
Though he wasn’t sure what he was going to do with her when she woke. The Varroki were secretive. They didn’t make a habit of letting anyone—especially witches—know who they were. Sybbyl discerned that fact quickly in their battle.
Perhaps he should leave the witch. He and Valdr had warmed her. It was time to get back to tracking Sybbyl. It would take Jarin days to return to where he’d been and pick up her trail again.
His gaze slid to the wolf, who was sleeping with his body curled around the witch. Jarin had never seen Valdr react to anyone other than him in such a manner.
He climbed to his feet and grabbed his staff. But Valdr didn’t rise. The wolf opened his yellow eyes and blinked at Jarin. His intention was clear. The wolf wasn’t leaving the witch.
Jarin replaced his staff and lowered himself to the ground again. He wanted the witch to wake so he could discover whatever it was that Valdr had already sorted out.
There was the sound of a soft sigh as the witch finally moved. Her legs straightened, and her arm moved enough that Jarin thought he might see her face until he spotted the hood pulled up.
Jarin felt the bottom of her cloak that had a long way to go before drying out. He spotted the dirt and the frayed hem of the garment, and that’s when it hit him.
The witch was running from the Coven. She’d had the wherewithal to fight one of its members, but she was smart enough to run instead of facing others that would inevitably come for her.
Jarin recalled the men saying that she was wounded. He reached for his staff, holding it over her while he sent magic through it with a spell to heal her. He set it aside once more when he was finished and eyed her.
He propped himself up with one hand. “Who are you?”
3
The moment Helena opened her eyes, she knew she wasn’t alone. Just as that realization went through her, she discovered that she was no longer cold. Nor did she feel pain from her injury.
She shifted her head so she could see from beneath the hood of her cloak. Her eyes landed on a man who squatted beside her, staring at her with what looked like cold detachment in his pale blue eyes. Her eyes drifted to his shoulder-length blond hair that had the top half pulled away from his face.
He was startlingly handsome. His nearly white eyes were impossible to look away from once they had you in their hold. Then there was his square chin and jaw seemingly carved from granite that couldn’t be hidden by his blond beard.
Sitting calmly on his arm was a peregrine falcon, who tilted its head to the side, studying her. And sitting beside her, watching her with unblinking large, yellow eyes, was a massive wolf with tawny brown fur.
Without a word, the man rose and walked to some rocks where he placed the bird. He spoke quietly to it, lovingly stroking the blue-gray feathers. Helena eyed the wolf, who remained next to her. Though he had given no indication of wanting to harm her, he was a wild animal. She inched up into a seated position and spotted the fire.
The man grabbed a staff she hadn’t noticed and looked over his shoulder at the wolf. An unspoken message passed between human and animal, and then the man walked out of the cave.
No words, no look in her direction. Nothing.
Helena raised her brows, wondering if her mind might be breaking.
A moment later, the wolf rose and shook. When the large animal lay down again, he leaned against her before resting his head on his paws.
Whoever the stranger was, he’d had plenty of time to kill her. There was no telling how long he’d been there while she had slept. Exhaustion had taken her, and she hadn’t been strong enough to fight it.
If the man hadn’t harmed her, that meant he wanted something. Her first instinct was to run, but she was tired of it. Fighting the Coven witch had felt good. Right, even. It was what she should be doing.
She’d run because she had yet to be in a position where she felt as if she could win against a group of the Coven. Or worse, Sybbyl.
In a flurry of slate feathers, the falcon flew from the cave, leaving her alone with the wolf. Helena hesitantly rested her hand on the animal. When he did
n’t growl or move away, she began to slowly run her hands through his thick fur, marveling at the softness and the varied colors from black, brown and cream to white.
“Where’s your pack?” she asked the wolf.
She yawned and shifted to a more comfortable position. With the warmth of the fire and the animal, there was an illusion of safety that had her becoming drowsy again.
It had been so long since she’d slept for longer than an hour or two, that now it was all her body wanted. That, and food. She wrinkled her nose at the idea of leaving the warmth of the cave to look for something to eat. That would have to wait. Right now, she was losing the battle against keeping her eyes open.
Helena yawned again. Her mind wandered, but it wasn’t long before it returned to the handsome, silent stranger. Who was he? Where had he gone? When would he return?
And did she want him to?
More questions filled her mind as she drifted off to sleep.
The rumbling of her stomach pulled her awake. The smell of something roasting over the fire filled her nostrils, making her mouth water. She opened her eyes and saw four quail skewered on a spit. Apparently, she had slept through the stranger returning.
Her fingers curled, expecting to feel fur, but it was the wool of her cloak instead. She looked down to find the wolf gone.
“He went to eat.”
Her head jerked toward the voice. The stranger sat in a shadowed corner, far from the fire. Though she couldn’t see his face, she felt his gaze.
“He is quite taken with you,” the man stated.
His voice was as smooth as velvet, the timbre deep and alarmingly sexy with the hint of an accent she couldn’t quite place. She didn’t want to like it.
Helena looked at the food before her gaze swung to the cave entrance, gauging to see if she could make it before the man caught her.
“Leave,” he said as if reading her thoughts.
Despite her unease, her eyes slid back to him. Helena had been toyed with before. This man knew nothing about her, and while he had animals who could kill her, she had magic—something he didn’t know anything about.
“I have no intention of keeping you prisoner. You can leave at any time.”
Oh, how she wanted to believe him. A part of her was tempted to see if she could leave without being stopped. But another part—the part that had been on the run for weeks, barely sleeping and rarely eating—wished to remain.
Her toes were no longer frozen and painful to move. She could feel her fingers and nose again. There was food waiting. Only a fool would walk away from it all.
The silence stretched endlessly. The man didn’t speak again, and Helena didn’t know what to say. She stared into the flickering flames, watching them devour the wood. He...well, she didn’t know what he was doing. And she didn’t care.
That was a lie. Helena had a thousand questions, but none fell off her tongue.
What seemed an eternity later, the stranger rose and walked to the fire. He took a thin stick from the spit that held two birds and brought it to her. She looked up at him, meeting his unusual gaze before she accepted the offering. He took the other two birds with him as he resumed his position in the shadows.
Despite the heat of the meat that burned her fingers and tongue, Helena tore off a piece and closed her eyes as she chewed. She forgot about the man, the wolf, and the falcon as she greedily devoured the first quail so quickly she didn’t look up from it. She’d just started on the second when the wolf returned.
She was oddly offended when the animal didn’t come to her. He maneuvered himself to sit between her and the man. When the wolf’s eyes moved in her direction, she smiled at him. He was a savage creature that could—and likely, would—eat humans. But, oddly, she didn’t feel afraid of him. Because he had slept beside her, warming her? Maybe. There was something almost...calming about the beast.
“It is not common to see a man with a wolf,” she said to the stranger.
There was a sound that came from the shadows that resembled a snort. “There is nothing common about Valdr or me.”
“Valdr,” she said and grinned when the wolf’s ears swiveled to her.
“It is Nordic. It means ruler and mighty one.”
“It suits him,” she replied as she took a bite of meat. Then she tossed some to Valdr. Helena lifted her gaze to the man. “What about the falcon?”
There was a pause. “Andi. It means spirit in Norse.”
Helena swallowed and pulled another piece of meat from the bird. She tore off a section and tossed it to Valdr. “And your name?”
“I was wondering when you would get to that. I am Jarin.”
“My name is Helena.”
“Ah. I see.”
She frowned. “Just what do you see?”
“We have mutual friends. The Hunters.”
Helena froze, her stomach falling to her feet in stunned disbelief. “How do you know of them?”
“I helped Braith and Leoma. I also aided Carac and Ravyn against Sybbyl. You assisted Carac and his men. You should have stayed to help us. Perhaps then Sybbyl would not have ended up with the staff.”
Anger churned within her. “I stood against the Coven before. I lost everything by doing it.”
“So, you’ll keep running from them?”
“Until I know I can win.”
Jarin snorted loudly this time. “Then you will be running forever. The Coven grows stronger each day.”
“How do you know so much?” she demanded.
He sat forward, the shadows melting away as the light of the fire illuminated his face. “Because I am one of you.”
“Impossible,” she replied. But the longer she looked at him, the more she considered the possibility.
The smile that tilted Jarin’s lips was anything but friendly. “I am a Varroki.”
For the second time that night, she stared at him in astonishment. “They are a myth.”
“I promise you, we are anything but. We have been fighting the Coven for generations. Always before, we were able to keep them in check, but not this time.”
Her appetite gone, Helena set aside the rest of the quail and rose to her feet. She walked toward the entrance and placed her hand on the stones, trying to come to terms with what she just learned. The rock was cold beneath her palm, evidence that the wall was too far from the fire to benefit from the flames.
“You killed a Coven witch,” Jarin said.
She shrugged. “I’ve killed many, but it does no good.”
“Leoma saved you. The Coven had captured you and wanted you to join them.”
“I do not need you to retell the story. I was there.”
“Perhaps you do.”
He was close behind her now, just a step or two at her back. She hadn’t even heard him move. He was quick and as quiet as the grave.
Helena shook her head. “The Hunter gave me a second chance. I returned the favor by helping Carac.”
“It’s going to take all of us to bring down the Coven.”
She whirled around to him. “Why? You said yourself that the Varroki have been fighting the Coven for generations. This will continue to happen again and again and again.”
“So you just want to give up and let them win?”
Helena swallowed the angry retort and the hated tears that filled her eyes. “I will never stop fighting them.”
“Neither will I, nor will any of the Varroki. And I suspect the Hunters are with us on this.”
“What do you want of me?”
“Join me.”
She blinked, taken aback by his request. “The legends I heard of the Varroki say that you are twice as powerful as any of us. You do not need me.”
“Perhaps not. I’m a warrior for the Varroki. I have always been on my own, tracking and fighting members of the Coven. My success is measured by the number of Coven members who are no longer breathing. I make a dent, as do other Varroki. The Hunters make some headway, as well. And you do some damage, but
few witches are willing to rise up against the Coven.”
“You think by joining forces we can have more of an impact?”
“I do not think it. I know it. I have been part of it twice now. Even Malene, who leads the Varroki, agrees with me.”
Helena had to admit that what Jarin said made sense. There was also the fact that she would no longer be alone. Having someone with her to help watch her back would relieve a great deal of stress from her.
Then there was the Varroki himself. Jarin was intense. It was in the way he looked at her with his pale blue eyes, but also in the way he spoke and in his bearing. The kind of man that always got his target and rarely failed.
He was a warlock used to getting what he wanted. And right now, his sights were set on the Coven. She would be a fool not to join him.
“All right,” she said with a nod.
One side of his mouth lifted in a grin. It was crooked, the look in his eyes full of satisfaction, and the sudden heart-stopping transformation on his already handsome face made her breath catch. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been around someone so gorgeous that it made it hard for her to concentrate.
“You need more rest,” Jarin said and pivoted on his heel.
Apparently, that was the end of the conversation. Helena watched as he returned to the shadows. She looked at the wolf, who stared lovingly at the warlock.
The chill from outside finally reached her. She wrapped her arms around herself and made her way back to the fire. After lowering herself to the ground, she reached for the second quail and ate some more.
“What was your plan?” Jarin asked into the silence.
Helena shrugged. “To survive. The Coven knows when a witch uses magic. They come for them immediately.”
“That explains why you did not start a fire.”
She glanced at him. “My actions make it look as if I fear to face them.”
“Only a fool would claim not to be distressed by such a meeting.”
“I have stood my ground against them twice before. I was caught the second time. That’s when Leoma came.”
