by Evan Currie
“Why are you singling me out?”
“I wonder,” the man in black replied dryly. The door to the lodge opened before they got within a hundred feet of it.
A mountain of a man was standing there in the doorway, bathed in the light, a big wood-chopping ax cradled in his arms. He didn’t move, however — he just stood there in the doorway as they approached.
Norton gave the imposing figure a brief glance, but didn’t pay him any more mind after that. Instead, he stared at the far side of the lodge and nodded into the shadows.
“You are The Black?” a soft spoken voice called, startling the SEALs, who hadn’t spotted any hint of motion from that direction.
They looked up to see a small figure, a slightly built woman or young girl, perched casually on the eaves of the sod-covered roof.
“I am.”
“Welcome, then…Alexander, I believe?”
“Alexander, The Black,” Norton confirmed.
“Welcome to the Northern Vanir Lodge,” she said, hopping down lightly as she walked around to the front door. “Thank you, Will.”
“No problem, Hannah,” the big man rumbled, setting the ax down.
“Bring us refreshments, please,” she said. “I believe this will be an interesting chat.”
“Of course. Should I inform the others?”
“No, I’ll let them know myself.”
The big man nodded and vanished inside as the two SEALs examined the young woman in the light.
She was what would undoubtedly be called a goth, Masters finally decided. Dark clothing, black hair with deep electric-blue highlights and long bangs. He didn’t see any indication that she might have a firearm, but she was carrying at least one knife, which sat comfortably on her hip. He was certain from the comfortable way it sat that she was familiar with the blade and its use, and he thought that she might have another in her boot, judging from the bulge along her calf.
“There is sanctuary here for you and your friends if you need it,” the girl told Alex.
“Thank you,” Norton replied. “Hannah, was it?”
She nodded.
“Then please, call me Alex.”
“Alex, then,” she said, leading them inside. “Welcome, and be warm.”
The inside of the house was hardwood, almost from top to bottom, and Masters had to marvel at how much it must have cost to bring that much wood up this far north. There were certainly no large forests nearby to provide the material, which meant it must have come in by boat or by plane. The room he was in had to have cost tens of thousands of dollars to build, in materials alone.
“Please, sit. Be comfortable,” Hannah told them, gesturing toward the seats that were arrayed around the room. “I can only assume that your presence here has to do with whatever is happening in Barrow?”
“You know about that?” Rankin asked as he sunk into a big sofa chair.
“We’ve…noticed things,” she said calmly, taking a seat across from them, eyes locked on Norton. “I presume you have more information?”
He nodded. “Yes. Vampires.”
“Draugr? Here?” she asked, disbelieving.
“No,” he shook his head. “The Eastern Europe variety.”
Hannah grimaced. “I would have preferred the Draugr.”
She frowned, thinking for a moment. “And I am back to my original question—here?”
“Here.” Norton nodded. “And no, I can’t figure out how either.”
“This is…irritating,” she said finally. “How many?”
“I’d say a good chunk of the town, at least, plus maybe sixty members of the National Guard and Alaskan state troopers,” Norton said tiredly.
“I see,” she said. “The weather is slated to remain warm, unseasonably so, for some time yet. Damn global warming, yes?”
She smiled as she rose. “I will return soon.”
The dark girl walked out of the room, leaving the two SEALs alone with their civilian consultant.
“So that’s an Asatru?” Masters asked, eyebrow raised. “I was expecting something more like the big guy with the ax, to be honest.”
“She’s not Asatru.” Norton shook his head. “She’s Rokkatru. I can practically taste the Loki-touch on that one.”
“Okay, you finally said something I understood,” Rankin said, looking over at him. “Loki? Like the bad guy from The Avengers?”
Norton closed his eyes and just barely restrained himself from either ranting at the SEAL or whimpering in frustration. Since his eyes were closed, he missed the grin Rankin shot over to Masters, who just rolled his eyes.
“Yes,” he said finally, through gritted teeth. “Like the bad guy from The Avengers.”
“You sure you didn’t walk us out of the frying pan and into the fire?”
Norton sighed, then shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way. The old gods have a lot of different faces. Loki was a troublemaker, but he had other aspects as well. Some people believe that he’s just another incarnation of Odin, and his mythological actions were just as often good as they were evil.”
“As fascinating as this is,” Masters said, waving a hand to cut off the mythology lecture, “why are we here?”
“If nothing else, I expected you might like a warm place to form a plan.” Alex shrugged.
“Fair point.” Masters nodded, gesturing to the duffel he was carrying. “You think they’ll mind if I reload?”
Alex chuckled. “I’m sure that they’d insist upon it.”
That sounded a tad odd to Masters, but he wasn’t curious enough to ask. He drew out the AA-12 and the drum magazines, then broke open the first box of shells and started loading.
“The lodge here was paid for by some of the wealthier members of an Asatru organization,” Alex explained, his voice pitched a little lower. “Mostly it’s used as a holiday spot of sorts.”
“Who holidays up in the butt end of nowhere, north of the Arctic Circle?” Rankin asked sarcastically.
“An Asatru.”
They looked up to see that Hannah had reappeared, along with several men of varying stature and dress. They walked in and took seats where they could easily converse with the trio.
“The lodge provides a place for the Asatru to explore a similar environment and lifestyle as their forebears, without any pressure or stress,” Hannah said with a hint of a smile. “Unless, of course, they wish for the stress.”
One of the men, a slimly built fellow wearing casual outdoorsman clothing, smiled more freely. “It’s really more of a kick than anything,” he said. “We’ve got authentic Viking longboats and a large bay to sail them in. It makes for an enjoyable holiday.”
“Man, I’m a SEAL. If I want to be sailing a crappy boat over freezing water, I get enough of that on duty,” Rankin replied with a roll of his eyes.
The men eyed him closely upon this declaration, then shifted their gazes to where Masters was quietly loading his Auto Assault–12 shotgun.
“Are you a SEAL too?” one of the older men asked quietly.
Masters nodded, but didn’t stop loading the drums. “Lieutenant Commander Harold Masters, sir.”
The Asatru exchanged confused looks, some of them seemingly troubled by his statement. Only Hannah seemed unaffected as she sat there, her face blank and unexpressive.
Finally, they looked back at Alex. “And these men…know?”
“Yes,” he said and nodded. “They crossed ten years ago. The Kraken took their ship and comrades, and they were among the few survivors.”
The winces and grimaces of the men were enough to put to rest any doubts Masters had about them. They were aware of the world on the wrong side of the veil, no question.
“I understand,” the older man finally said. “I must ask what business The Black has here, however.”
“We need sanctuary for a time, elder,” Alex answered. “Nothing more.”
Two of the men Masters noticed looked uncomfortable after this pronouncement. Almost disappointed.
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“And what do you intend to do about the undead in Barrow, then?”
“We’re considering our options.”
Masters barely managed to keep from snorting at that. Considering the situation they were in, options were something they were desperately seeking, not “considering.” Even with a fresh reload, there was no way they were ready to take on hundreds of those things, let alone the potential four thousand that could be out there.
“In other words,” Hannah drawled from where she was sitting, “they don’t have the slightest idea.”
“Hannah!” the elder growled, exasperated. “Some respect, please.”
“No,” Alex said with a smile, “it’s nothing but the unvarnished truth. I’m afraid that I’ve never dealt with an infestation before. I’ve spent very little time in Eastern Europe, and at the time, I had no reason to do more than a cursory investigation of vampires. We can eliminate dozens, hundreds maybe, but short of destroying the entire town…”
“I see,” the elder said, and nodded before looking back at him. “You do know how they come about, yes?”
“Vampires?” Norton nodded. “The origin is, without failure, a person of a distinct foulness. Death refuses them — or so the old tales go.”
“Yes, and there is your key.”
Norton frowned. “The originator?”
“Precisely. The others are inconsequential,” the elder said. “End the originator, and the rest will tend to themselves.”
Norton let out a breath. “That makes things…well, I won’t say easier, because I have no idea how we’re going to find the pack leader, but at least it give us a chance.”
“We can hit these bastards back?” Masters asked, still loading his drums.
“If we can find the originator, the pack leader,” Norton said, “then yeah. We just might be able to do that.”
“Can you find it?”
“I don’t know, but I can damn well try.”
“Good enough.” Masters nodded. “We’ll head back once I’m done here.”
One of the two larger men cleared his throat and nudged the elder, shooting him a glare. The older man sighed, rolling his eyes in annoyance.
“These two are fell warriors,” he said, “and they wish to join in the fight.”
Masters froze, eyeing the two for a moment, then glanced at Norton. The man in black just shrugged and nodded after a moment.
“All right,” Masters said, sounding unconvinced. “Welcome aboard.”
Hannah sighed deeply. “I’ll join them as well.”
Even the elder looked at her askance, though the surprise in his eyes held none of the consternation and incredulity of the SEALs’ expressions. “Are you certain, Hannah?”
“Only fools walk where Valkyr fear to tread,” she said. “I am neither fool nor Valkyr. However, the fools do need company.”
This time Masters started to object, only to have Norton stop him with a hand on his shoulder. He looked back, and the man known as The Black just shook his head. That left him in a bit of an odd spot, not knowing what the hell was going on and not being in a position to do anything about it if he did.
“All right. Pack your kit and grab your arms,” he said. “We move out in thirty.”
CHAPTER 13
Judith found herself fighting the shakes as she sat in the comm center of the Coast Guard cutter, the door sealed behind her.
“N-navy SOCOM,” she said, fighting to keep a stutter out of her voice. “This is Captain Judith Andrews.”
“Captain Andrews…stand by for Admiral Karson.”
She let out a breath she’d barely been aware she was holding, and then did exactly what she’d been told to do and waited. It only took a few moments for SOCOM to patch Karson in from wherever he was — she couldn’t imagine that he was waiting in the war room at Special Operations Command, after all.
“Captain, just what the hell is going on up there?!”
Judith was taken aback by the intensity of the admiral’s demand, shocked by his tone more than the words. “Uh…Admiral, sir?”
“Masters just checked in a short while ago,” Karson growled. “He advised that we firebomb Barrow! So I’ll say it again, what the hell is going on?”
“The lieutenant commander is alive, sir?” Judith blurted, utterly shocked.
“He was a half hour ago.” Karson’s voice took on a surprised tone of its own. “God, Andrews, don’t tell me the situation is really as bad as all that?”
“I…honestly, Admiral, I don’t know what’s going on. Some of the things I’ve seen and heard…” She shuddered. “Sir, I don’t want to say any of this over the air, even encrypted.”
There was a long pause. “Then what can you say?”
“The population of Barrow seems to be”—Judith swallowed—“insane, sir. They not only attacked and killed at least some of the guardsmen and state troopers, they actually…sir, it looked like people were eating the bodies. Lieutenant Commander Masters stayed behind to provide a distraction when we withdrew to the Coast Guard cutter. They just kept coming at him, even though he killed so many. They didn’t run, sir. They threw themselves at him, and it took several bullets to down them. I…I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“God…” Karson’s voice sounded strained, even over the radio. “What’s your current situation?”
“We lost Lieutenant Nelson, sir. Presumed d-dead,” she gritted out. “The master chief, Lieutenant Hale, and the lieutenant commander are all MIA, along with the civilian consultant—”
“What civilian consultant?!” Karson blew. “I wasn’t informed that there was a civilian on this mission!”
Oh. Shit. Judith grimaced. She wished Masters had bothered to share that information with her. Keep dreaming, Judith. That jackass probably doesn’t tell himself some things, ‘because he doesn’t want to know.’
“Uh…Masters introduced him, sir. You did give him authority to recruit consultants,” she offered, halfheartedly.
There was a long silence over the radio; then Karson came back sounding a lot calmer.
“Captain, how much fuel does the Coast Guard chopper have on hand?”
“Not certain, sir.”
“Find out.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And I need you to find Masters and get him back on a radio. I want, no need, to find out what he knows. Am I making myself clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Get to it, then, Captain.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Karson out.”
Judith stared at the radio for a while longer before whispering, “Andrews out.”
She set the headset down and disconnected her encryption module, trying to figure out what she was going to tell the others. Not to mention how I’m going to convince the captain of the ship to give me his chopper.
She opened the door to the comm room, letting the radioman back in just as the machine behind her started squawking loudly for his attention. She ignored it as she wandered, in a bit of a daze, back to where the SEALs were waiting.
She needn’t have worried.
* * *
By the time she finished talking to the SEALs, she found a rather irritated Coast Guard captain waiting impatiently on her.
“Captain…,” she said as soon as she noticed him.
“Why did I just get orders detailing my bird and pilots to your command?”
Judith winced, but quickly got her surprise under control. “I was just on my way to request that very thing, Captain.”
“Well, I suppose I’ve saved you the trouble then, haven’t I?”
“I’m sorry, Captain,” she said, pulling herself together. “I’ll do my best to minimize the impact this situation has on your command.”
“A little late for that, Captain,” he growled, “but I have my orders. The Northern Dream is at your disposal. Just ask, and we’ll do our utmost to make sure it happens.”
She forced a nod. “Thank you, Captain T
yke.”
“Don’t thank me, Captain Andrews, orders are orders.”
“Please, sir, call me Judith. There’s no need for such formality between us,” she said, forcing as sincere a smile as she could manage given the situation.
He sighed, nodding. “Point taken, Judith. Ron. Call me Ron.”
“Excellent. I think we need to speak about deployment times and how much fuel you have available for the chopper.”
* * *
“Well, at least the boss made it,” Mack said after the captain left.
Derek nodded. “Yeah. Now we just have to get back in touch with him and arrange a pickup. Not to mention locating The Djinn, and you know that bastard’s gone to ground.”
“Won’t be hard,” Robbie said from where he was crashed out on a bunk. His eyes were closed, and he didn’t even spare a glance in their direction. “We’ve got locators, radios, smoke canisters, you name it. Finding them will be the easy part, and you know it.”
They nodded — that was true, and they did know it.
That left only the big white elephant in the room.
Convincing the boss that withdrawing was the play. He’d already made it pretty clear that he was in this for the duration, however short that might be. It wasn’t that any of them were cowards, far from it, but they didn’t want to play a no-win game if they couldn’t even score some damned points along the way.
Dying was one thing. Dying worthlessly, that was something else entirely.
As bad as it was, the three of them sort of envied Nelson. He’d gone out saving his squadmates. There were worse ways to die. Hell, there weren’t many better ways as far as they were concerned.
They all shared quiet looks, wondering what the others were thinking even while they knew the answer. Life sucked. The only easy day was yesterday. And if the boss wanted to tilt at windmills, well maybe they could be Sancho Panza for while.
They’d all done worse things.
The sound of a chopper warming up assaulted their ears, and then the hatch was thrown open and Captain Andrews appeared in the doorway.
“Time to go get our missing boys. Coming?”
