by Лори Девоти
“Back so soon?” the garm asked, a half smile tilting his lips.
“I wasn’t exactly waiting for an invite to tea,” the man replied, stroking the paper in his hand.
“And you got what you hoped for?” the garm prodded.
“Yep. She wasn’t lying. Once they saw how much she looked like the other one, they didn’t bother hemming or hawing. Paid right up.” With a grin, he looked up — directly at Risk.
All color drained from the man’s face, leaving him a dirty pasty white.
Risk straightened, his arms held loosely at his sides, his eyes fixed on the man who had just traded Kara for whatever he gripped in his hand.
“Where is she?” he asked, his voice barely louder than a whisper.
The man took a step back, his empty hand held up in front of him. “Now, don’t be getting excited. She told me you weren’t—” Risk narrowed his eyes, his nostrils flaring.
“She, she told me to tell you she made me take her. Damn near threatened me. Kol, here, he can tell you.” He shot a nervous glance at the garm. “That’s right, isn’t it?”
The bartender leaned against the bottle shelf, an amused smile on his lips.
Risk took a step forward.
The man shoved the rolled paper inside his sweatshirt and edged toward the garm. “You don’t want it getting out the Guardian’s Keep isn’t safe to do business at, do you, Kol?”
The garm shrugged. “Can’t say it matters much to me.”
Risk smiled, his hand reaching out. The man spun and sprung like a cat to the top of the bar. Cursing, Risk lunged, snagging the man’s tattered hood and jerking him back to the ground.
He leaned down and growled in the man’s ear. “Tell me who has her and how I get to her.”
The man glanced around, his brow lowered to a stubborn set. “Ask the garm.”
Risk twisted the man’s hood around his fist, pulling the material up around the man’s neck until he sputtered for breath. “I asked you.”
The man glared back.
Risk’s hand shot out and wrapped around his throat. He might need the garm, but he didn’t need this little thief.
He squeezed. The man’s heels kicked against the floor, his face turning red, then white.
The garm leaned over the end of the bar. “How’s that working for you?”
Risk glowered back.
“You know, you’ll catch more bees with honey. Or in Narr’s case, by taking his honey.” His gaze shifted to the zippered opening where the man had slid his scroll earlier.
The man’s eyes bulged, his lips ringed with blue.
Wishing he had his hands wrapped around the garm’s neck, Risk flung the man away. Then while the thief lay panting on the floor, Risk reached in his shirt and yanked out the paper.
“Back,” Narr muttered, holding up a weak hand.
Risk patted the scroll against his palm. “Where is she and how do I get there?”
“Gotta pay the toll.” The man coughed, his hand pressed to his throat, his eyes focused on the rolled piece of paper.
Risk snarled. He was fed up with games.
“A witch. You gotta have a witch. Garm has to let you through if you do. Part of the portal rules.”
Risk glanced at the garm. The other forandre lifted his head in a short nod of acknowledgment.
A frown cut across Risk’s forehead. “Who’s buying them? And for what?”
Narr glanced from the paper in Risk’s hand to the garm. The bartender pushed away from the counter and strolled to the other end of the bar. His back toward them, he began stacking glasses.
“Jormun,” Narr whispered. “Don’t know what for, but he’s been going through a cauldron of them. Every bounty hunter in all nine worlds been bringing in witches. Getting to be hard pickings anymore.”
Risk sat back on his heels. Jormun. What was the outcast son of Loki trying to accomplish with these witches?
“Garm,” he yelled. “Does he tell the truth?”
The bartender turned, his jaw set. “Greed and dim-wittedness may haunt Narr, but I’ve never seen him lie.”
Dropping the scroll on Narr’s chest, Risk shimmered out of the bar.
Perched on a boulder outside his cabin, Risk stared into the forest. The air was cool, but not biting. The scent of pine reminded him of the garm. He adjusted his bare feet on the smooth stone.
He had to return to Lusse. It was the only way to save Kara and her sister. He needed a witch to get into Jormun’s realm.
Before Kara, he would have simply tracked down an unknown witch and used her to buy his way into Jormun’s, but he couldn’t do that any longer. Couldn’t surrender an innocent, even to save himself or Kara.
A raven landed on a nearby branch. The sun glinted off its blue-black feathers.
For better or worse, things had changed. Risk had changed. Now he had no choice but to go forward and hope everything worked out somehow.
Life bound to Lusse had been unbearable before meeting Kara. Now, after knowing her, touching her, a lifetime separated from her would drive him mad more surely than even the bloodlust that ruled so many hounds.
The raven pointed its beak up to the sky, its raucous call splitting the air.
“Risk?” Lusse turned on one foot, a box of chocolates balanced in one hand, her eyebrows raised in surprise.
Risk tamped down a small surge of satisfaction at surprising the witch for once.
“I know where the twin is,” he announced.
“Ah, good.” Lusse lowered herself into her chair. “I did tell you to stop by before you went to retrieve her, didn’t I?” She flipped the lid off the candies and speared one with a fingernail. “So, you are concerned for the whelp.” A frown flitted across her face.
“Of course not,” Risk replied, adding a tinge of surprise to his own face.
Lusse held up the chocolate and studied it for a second before switching her gaze back to Risk. “Good, because I’ve been considering selling him. In fact, the potential buyers could be arriving any time.”
Anger twisted Risk’s gut. If Lusse was flaunting such news, it had to bode ill for Venge.
Choosing his words carefully, he said, “I didn’t know you ever gave up a hound. He’s well, isn’t he? Capable?”
She shrugged one shoulder and grasped the candy between her teeth. After swallowing it, she replied, “Still in his cage and possessed of a foul temper. I tire of his tantrums. But the sale was just a passing fancy, perhaps I won’t.”
In other words, she would wait to see which choice tormented the other males most.
Risk shoved his concerns to the back of his mind. Venge was safe for the moment; besides, if Lusse was with Risk in Jormun’s realm she wouldn’t be able to wreak havoc here.
“I know where the witch is, but I need your help to retrieve her.”
“Really?” Consternation and pride warred for Lusse’s expression. Dropping the candy box onto her lap, she huffed out, “Explain.”
Risk told her what he had learned from the thief at the Guardian’s Keep.
“Jormun?” Lusse prodded the inside of her cheek with her tongue. “What is he up to?”
“I wondered the same, and I’m sure there are those who would pay well for the knowledge,” Risk prompted.
“Gods even,” Lusse murmured to herself. “How many witches did the thief say Jormun had taken?” she asked.
“No count, but he acted like the number was dangerously high for the survival of witches.”
“Well, we can’t have that, now can we? What would I hunt?” Lusse laughed. Turning pensive, she ran a finger over the tops of a line of chocolates. “And the portal…how is it guarded?”
Risk frowned. What was she thinking? “I only saw the garm.”
She tilted her neck, her mouth twisting to the side. “Hmm.”
“There is no getting past him without paying his toll. I tried. And he has the power to shut down the portal. Then I…we’d never get your witch.”
“And I’d play the role of toll.” She flipped her gaze toward him.
“A pretense only,” Risk assured her.
“Of course.” She pursed her lips, her eyes focused on a spot behind him. Glancing back at him, she asked, “And you think he’d believe that? That you have control of me?”
Risk filled his lungs with air. “I don’t know that it will matter. From what I understand, garm are ruled by their dictates. Once the guidelines have been set he won’t vary from them.”
“It’s possible. Garm are an unimaginative sort.” Her finger pushed into the top of a chocolate, releasing an eruption of sugary syrup. “I have been feeling a little penned in. It’s been what, four hundred years since I left here?”
She picked up an untouched candy and popped it into her mouth. “Yes, a little trip to the Midgard Sea sounds divine. I can hardly wait to see what Jormun has been up to.”
With a peal of laughter, she stood up, the box of chocolates tumbling to the floor. “Yes. A trip. I think I’ll even pick up a few things while I’m out.”
With another laugh, she swept from the room.
15
Footsteps shuffled toward Kara, the round yellow lights growing larger. She swallowed and clasped her fingers more tightly together.
Something danced across her face again. This time followed by an excited hiss.
“Jormun will be pleased,” a new voice said.
Dry hands grabbed her arms and pulled her forward. Her captors spun so they and Kara faced forward, the yellow beams now clearly lighting the passageway in front of them.
Kara kept her gaze straight ahead, not ready to see who or what held her arms.
They stood in a hallway, constructed from what appeared to be a gigantic tube with just enough flat area forming the floor for her and the two creatures flanking her to walk side by side. The entire tunnel was transparent revealing what Narr had said was true — they were submerged deep inside some ocean.
The escort on her right swung his beam slightly outward revealing a large school of hideously fanged fish swimming by.
A shiver rippled through Kara’s body. What was Jormun that he chose to live here?
Something flicked against Kara’s hair. She bit her lip, refusing to look for the cause. She was fine. She was on her way to finding Kelly. Better she didn’t know right now the complete reality of her situation.
Ahead a translucent wall blocked their path. Her companions began hissing and speaking in some language she couldn’t understand, but based on the tightening of their grip, she guessed they were excited.
The one on her left released her to step forward. Her other captor’s twin beams shone ahead revealing the back of a bald head, and what appeared to be a normal if somewhat short-legged and slim form.
Kara let out a puff of air. Not so bad.
The captor in front pulled a stick from his black jump-suit and swung it into the doorway like a gong, three times. His body swayed side to side with the motion. He paused for a second, his arm dropping slightly, then pulled back and repeated the process twice more.
There was no answering sound, but vibrations of what Kara now recognized as power pounded against her, making it impossible for her to breathe or even think.
As the last vibration faded away, the wall thinned and her captor shoved her forward, through the opening.
She fell, landing on her knees in a room much wider than the hallway, but curved and with the same rounded walls. She glanced up, startled to see a blue sky dotted with fluffy clouds overhead. Had she gone through yet another portal?
Her guards shuffled forward, only their feet visible to her from this angle.
“Stand her up,” a voice boomed.
Kara was jerked from behind, landing on unsteady legs. Upright, she could see she was still in some kind of hall, but more what she imagined from a medieval castle than the tube she’d just walked through.
Fine rugs covered stone floors, and tapestries depicting dragons and large serpents devouring unsuspecting knights adorned the walls. And the ceiling…she peered at it…still appeared to be the sky on a warm summer day.
Shrugging off a sense of surreality, she searched the long room for the source of the voice.
Far in the back, stretched out on a bed of pillows, lounged a giant of a man. “Bring her forward,” he yelled.
One of her companions prodded her from behind. Squaring her shoulders, Kara walked toward the man she assumed was Jormun. He was entirely hairless — from his bald head to his face to the V of skin exposed by his voluminous shirt.
“Far enough.” He held up one hand, rings on every finger. He studied her for a second, then reached into a basket to retrieve something alive and wiggling. “Report,” he ordered, then dropped the hapless animal into his wide-open mouth, swallowing it whole.
Kara’s stomach flopped. She closed her eyes and breathed slowly through her nose, the thick moist air offering her no sense of calm.
When she opened her eyes, one of her guards had left her side and now kneeled next to Jormun. He gestured and nodded, then following Jormun’s gaze, turned to look back at Kara.
Kara’s heart slowed, her mouth going dry. Her captors weren’t odd-looking humans. They were…She licked her lips. Snakes. Humanoid, but still snakes.
Two giant yellow eyes shone back at her, and as the creature talked more with Jormun, his slitted tongue flicked in and out of his mouth. His skin was white, but too white, and with a greenish cast. Long body, short legs and arms — like a science experiment gone terribly wrong.
The guard still lurking behind her gave her a tiny shove. Kara turned her head, giving herself a glimpse of him, too. The hair on the back of her neck flew up and a shudder shook her body. Same eyes, same tongue.
Swallowing the bile that had crept to the back of her throat, she placed one foot in front of the other and trudged toward Jormun.
“Twins?” Jormun lurched upright, his eyes filled with interest.
The snake-man beside him hissed something in reply.
“Good. Good.” Jormun motioned for Kara to come closer. “How are your powers, witch?”
A drip of perspiration fell into Kara’s eye. She blinked, refusing to be demeaned by raising her bound hands.
Jormun rested his meaty arms on his bent knees, his gaze glued to her face. “Bring her closer.” He motioned with one hand.
The snake-men nudged her in the back of her knees until she crumpled forward, her hands in front of her keeping her face from colliding with the stone floor.
As she struggled to right herself, Jormun grabbed her chin with strong fingers and tilted her face up. “Amazing,” he muttered, his gaze meeting hers.
Clapping his hands together, he leaned back. “She’s perfect. Take her to her sister.”
Kara’s heart leaped. Kelly. Kara had done it. She’d found Kelly.
The snake-men shuffled forward, bodies bent and stubby arms ready to tug her to her feet.
Not waiting for them to touch her, Kara hopped up and held out her hands.
Part one was accomplished. Now she just had to get her and her sister out of here. She squeezed her eyes against the image of the burned witch she’d seen at the morgue.
They might not have much time.
Risk stood on the doorstep of the Guardian’s Keep, Lusse beside him, her cape flapping in the wind. The witch held up her hand to adjust the bottom of her white leather glove.
“Is this it?” She raised a brow. “Really, garm take no pride in their surroundings, do they?” Huffing out a breath, she jerked the door open, leaving Risk to follow behind.
The garm stood leaning against the mirrored back of the bar. At their appearance, one eyebrow shot up.
“Back so soon?”
Risk glanced around. Two men seated near the door watched them with undisguised interest. Risk bared his teeth, turning their interest quickly back to their drinks.
Three tables were occupied, but neither the troll he’d met outside
nor the thief who’d transported Kara were present. Just as well. Risk was not in the mood for renewing old acquaintances. Once he was sure no one in the room posed a threat, he replied to the garm. “I’ve brought the toll.”
“Her?” The garm shot Lusse a disbelieving look. The witch stood feet apart, hands on her hips, obviously assessing the other occupants.
“Her,” Risk replied.
The garm paused for a second, then shrugged. “Fine. Bring her over.” He walked from behind the bar to stand by a doorway, two thin straps in his hand.
Risk walked to Lusse, then gestured toward the garm.
With a bored sigh, she sauntered to the doorway. “This is the garm?” she asked, her gaze roaming over the bartender’s muscled body.
The garm crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowed.
“You here alone, garm?” she asked.
The bartender glanced at Risk. “You ready?”
Risk nodded, the hair on his arms rising. Lusse stood with her hands still on her hips, studying the garm the way a cat studies a mouse.
“What powers do you have?” she asked.
The garm passed a questioning glance to Risk. “She your toll or not?”
Risk placed a gentle pressure on Lusse’s elbow, urging her forward. She turned her head with an annoyed snap, but moved closer to the doorway.
“She has to wear these.” The garm held the thin straps over his open palms.
Lusse laughed. “Jormun’s idea?”
Ignoring her, the garm twisted a strap into a circle and leaned forward to slip it over Lusse’s wrist.
She stepped backward, pulling her hunting horn from inside her cloak. “Lovely bauble, though it is. I don’t think so.”
Before Risk or the garm could react, she tipped the horn to her lips and blew.
The air around Risk began to shimmer.
The garm vaulted over the bar, reappearing with a silver bar in his hand, just as five hellhounds in human form shimmered to solidity behind Lusse.
With a smile, Lusse held out her hand and blasted a stream of white-hot power toward the portal.
