by Jane Godman
It didn’t take much in-depth analysis for Vigo to understand one of the reasons why he was so reluctant to see the brotherhood disband. He wasn’t fooling himself. Alongside his genuine fears for what would happen to the safety of the world if this powerful force no longer existed, he feared for his own well-being.
Five years ago, he had been struggling out of a dark place. Clawing his way back from addiction had been a long and lonely battle. He had clung on to his job as a paramedic and begun to turn his life around. Looking back, he wasn’t sure he’d have been able to keep up the fight if it hadn’t been for Gunnar.
When Gunnar, who had for many centuries been the leader of the brotherhood, approached him, Vigo had thought he was crazy.
“Even if this brotherhood exists, are you seriously expecting me to believe I’m one of the seven strongest and bravest Arctic werewolves in the world?”
“Yes.” There had been something in the other man’s eyes as he said that simple word. Truth, trust, and something more. Something that had made Vigo follow him here that first time, leading him on a series of adventures that had come close to ripping apart the fabric of the world. “We had a permanent member called Hendrik who left us when he believed he no longer had the strength or courage to be part of the team. Over the years, I have tried temporary replacements. Although they have done a good job, I believe you are the one we have been waiting for.”
The brotherhood had restored him. He no longer had those cravings. He could deal with the darkness that gripped him every now and then. Part of his rehabilitation had been fueled by the trust Gunnar had placed in him that day. Becoming a member of the brotherhood had been huge. Empowered by that, Vigo had regained his lost pride.
But it was this that had helped him more than anything. The companionship of the brotherhood was as important as its strength. He knew he would never lose the friendships he had made, but he might lose something deeper. He looked around the group as they made their way into the communal room and began stripping off their outer clothing. If this team broke up, something magical would be lost. They were more than a fighting force, more even than a peacekeeping force. Whenever a brotherhood member left because he, or she, was no longer one of the seven bravest or strongest, the replacement always brought something extra to the team, over and above their strength and fighting skill. Whether it was Samson with his ability to sense emotion, or Vigo with his healing powers. Those things would be lost if the brotherhood ceased to exist. But for Vigo if the group went its separate ways, he would lose his lifeline.
“You’re late.” Although the brotherhood knew their former leader under the alias Gunnar, he had kept his true identity hidden from them for many centuries. He was Tyr, the Norse god of honor and justice. His familiar smile lit his face as he strode into the communal room.
“You try controlling a reluctant team of dogs in these conditions.” Lowell’s protest was lost in the ritual of greeting. Even in human form, touch and scent were important to werewolves. Hugs and nose bumps reinforced their pack relationship. The brotherhood was unique. Each person gathered in that room, except Cindy, was an alpha werewolf. Ordinarily, bringing a group such as that together would be a recipe for carnage. Instead, each member used their dominant traits for the good of the pack. Observing a welcome ritual was necessary. A reminder that they were equals.
Always seven and only seven. The bravest and strongest Arctic werewolves. Our creed won’t work if we rip out each other’s throats.
The goddess Angrboda stepped into the room behind her lover. Her greeting was more dignified. As tall as Gunnar and even wider, she had hair the color of dried blood, skin as white as snow, and eyes that glittered green as emeralds.
“So”—her deep voice echoed off the solid wooden walls—“you have come to discuss how to destroy my son?”
Chapter Two
The long working day at Norway Tech was finally at an end and Amber joined a group who were drinking beer and watching a movie in the bar. To her relief, a few people shuffled over on the corner sofa, making room for her to sit down. One good thing about living in such a small, remote community was that people enjoyed talking about newcomers. It wasn’t easy to go unnoticed in Longyearbyen. Amber was counting on the town gossips to have already spread the word about the new arrivals . . . although her interest was really only centered on the man called Vigo.
“Do you know anything about the people who arrived on the private charter yesterday?”
Keeping to herself had always suited Amber just fine. Now, when she needed to talk, her colleagues were regarding her in blank surprise.
“What people are you talking about?” The guy who spoke gestured to an ice bucket full of beers but Amber shook her head.
“They arrived yesterday.” She had already ascertained that they weren’t staying in the town. Five men and two women was a large group for this time of year. The kitchen staff who came up to the satellite station to cook meals for the Norway Tech employees all lived in town. Although they had been surprised at Amber’s sudden friendliness, her questioning had elicited the information she needed. No large groups had checked into any of the hotels or hostels. Since none of the guesthouses in Longyearbyen were big enough to accommodate seven people, she was left wondering where the hell they could have gone. It was like the group of Arctic werewolves had stepped off their plane and vanished into thin air.
There were general shrugs and most of her colleagues seemed inclined to return to the movie. It was Retief who saved her from sinking into despondency. He was a new arrival, one of the team who had been on the plane she’d flown out from Norway on the previous day. “They have stayed here a few times before.” Amber sat up a little straighter at the words. Although she was surprised that a newcomer would have that information, she wasn’t going to start questioning its source. “They use the old United Nations environmental studies compound.”
“But that’s miles out of town. And there’s nothing up there on that ridge.” Amber had been past the compound a few times when she had shifted and allowed her inner wolf to run free. “Why would anyone want to stay out there?”
“Privacy?” Retief shrugged. “Maybe they’re up to no good? Probably planning a bank heist or even a terrorist attack.”
There was general laughter at the idea that anyone would travel all the way to Longyearbyen to commit a crime. Embarrassed, Amber crossed her arms over her chest and subsided into silence. The movie played out before her eyes, but she didn’t take any of it in. Her mind was puzzling over the mysterious new arrivals who had chosen to set themselves so far apart from local society. That was what she tried to tell herself. In reality, her mind didn’t stray far from the rush of emotion that had hit her at the airport on the previous day.
The initial tortuous rapture had subsided. Thank heaven. There was no way she could have sustained that level of breathless anticipation. Her heart wouldn’t have been able to take the strain. Even so, her nerve endings were buzzing with residual heat. Her whole body still cried out with the urgency of the sensations thrumming through it. Every instinct was compelling her to go seek out her mate.
Amber had experienced arousal before, but, as with her other emotions, she had always been able to ruthlessly suppress it. There had been a time when she hadn’t questioned her right to a normal life, both as a human and a werewolf. That had been in the days before vicious killers had wiped out her family and her pack, driving her to flee here to the end of the world. They would hunt her down. That was what she had overheard them saying. Since that day, her only instinct had been survival. She had no time to waste on feelings.
That was what made this so difficult to understand. How could she feel this way about a man she hadn’t even seen properly? Yet she only had to think about the way they had gazed at each other to trigger a nipple-tightening, thigh-trembling response. The need for release was overwhelming. Not just any release. She needed him.
This can’t be happening to me.
; Despite its ice and snow, there were no Arctic wolf packs on Svalbard. Until the arrival of Vigo and his friends, Amber had only seen two other Arctic werewolves here. A man and a woman had moved to Longyearbyen about a year ago. She had caught occasional glimpses of them, but had carefully avoided them. Friendships and relationships were dangerous territory. Werewolves mated for life, and, until they found their mate, they could have sex in human form. But sex would mean getting close to another person, even temporarily. Amber wasn’t going to let that happen.
So she had been alone. With no distractions from human or werewolf friends and family, she had directed her energy into maintaining a mind and body that were at peak fitness. She had always had complete command over her feelings and her muscles. And she would regain it. For some reason, her reaction to this man had been extreme. But she had spent years honing her body. It was hard, strong and fast. As for her emotions . . . well, for some reason, they weren’t responding to her iron control right now.
She would just have to work that little bit harder to get her rebellious feelings back in line.
* * *
“It is very easy to gain a reputation as a good guest among werewolves.” There was a twinkle in Angrboda’s eyes. “All you need to do is bring a pack of raw meat and beer.”
Vigo had met the goddess several times now and he was still amazed by how normal she appeared. He had to remind himself now and then that this was the goddess. Angrboda was revered by all werewolves. The woman who was known as the Mother of All Wolves had a fearsome reputation. She was passionate, violent, bloodthirsty, and very wise. The leader of the Wolf Clan, she had risen to become the mightiest warrior of the Nine Clans of the Iron Wood by right of the many battles she had won. A fiercely proud werewolf shape-shifter, she was also a high priestess, magician, and seer. While she was aware of everything that went on within the wolf world, Angrboda rarely left her legendary palace of Jotunheim.
It was Angrboda’s love life that provided the most convoluted twists and turns in her biography. Although she was still married to the trickster god, Loki, they had been separated for centuries. Angrboda was mother to several of Loki’s children, including the most feared werewolf of them all, Fenrir. The gods were so afraid of Fenrir that they kept him chained in a dungeon beneath Jotunheim. But Angrboda and Fenrir were more than mother and son. During a shameful episode of her life that she preferred to keep hidden, Fenrir had tricked Angrboda into becoming his lover, and she had born him three sons, Skoll, Hati, and Santin. Skoll and Hati were the werewolf gods who chased sun and moon across the sky in chariots, creating day and night. Santin, the former leader of the Siberian werewolves, had been killed by the brotherhood during a bloodthirsty campaign when he tried to destroy the Arctic species.
Although it clearly hurt her to talk of the crimes of her children, Angrboda accepted that Fenrir’s imprisonment was a necessity just as she had accepted that Santin had be stopped when his behavior was out of control. The problem with Fenrir was that, although he lay chained in a dungeon beneath the palace where they now sat, it had become clear that he was communicating telepathically with his followers in the human realm.
“What I can never understand is why any mortals would be persuaded to follow Fenrir,” Cindy said. They were seated around the central table that was laden with platters of raw meat. The goddess was right. Social occasions involving food were an easy way to keep werewolves happy. “He has sworn to destroy humanity. That would have me running in the opposite direction instead of wanting to be his friend.”
“We’ve seen to our cost that underestimating Fenrir’s power of persuasion is a mistake.” Vigo voiced what everyone was thinking. “Fenrir is evil, but he is also clever and cunning. He hates humans because they were created by his enemy, Odin. But Fenrir knows there is no point announcing his intention to the world. He has found more subtle ways to build up his following. He is aware that the world has changed in the centuries since he was placed in his chains. During the time he was free, he used mind control on the people he came in contact with. He is getting the world under his influence before he tears it apart. We know he was in league with Chastel and they were using online gaming to brainwash their followers.”
Lowell nodded his agreement. “Odessa has done some research.” Although she had stepped down from any active involvement, Lowell’s wife was the CEO of a computer gaming company. “Her estimate is that the online gaming channel Fenrir and Chastel used as a front for their activities had over eighty million followers.”
“You mean Fenrir could already have access to the minds of eighty million people?” Samson’s expression was shocked.
“It’s a possibility.” Lowell confirmed. “We have no way of knowing the exact number.”
A stunned silence followed this disclosure. “Let me get this straight.” Sebastian leaned forward. “Six months ago, Samson finally killed Jean Chastel, the bounty hunter who had sworn to destroy all werewolves. One of our biggest problems with Chastel was that we never knew who we were fighting because he could use trickery to become someone else, or to exert mind control over his devoted followers, the Hellhounds, or even over a person he met in the street. We all heaved a sigh of relief when we knew Chastel was dead. But now we find out he was never our biggest problem. Because the whole time, he was working with Fenrir to build up a huge army of new followers. And Fenrir can control them from his cell?” His voice grew increasingly incredulous. “So we still don’t know who we’re fighting, but now we have to multiply it by eighty fucking million?”
“Eighty million is the worst-case scenario,” Lowell reminded him. “And look on the bright side—”
“There’s a bright side?”
“None of these people will be as powerful as Chastel. They won’t even know they’ve been recruited.”
Sebastian gave a laugh that sounded like a growl as he placed a hand over his side. “Fenrir was inside Chastel’s body, using him on psychic remote control six months ago when he slashed his claws into my side and deflated my lung. It doesn’t make me feel a whole lot better knowing he has an army of new followers lined up waiting to do the same thing.”
“Which is why we have to stop him.” Vigo raised his eyes to look at Angrboda and Gunnar. It wouldn’t be easy for Fenrir’s mother and the man who had cared for him when Fenrir was a child to hear what he was going to say next. “The only way to stop the god of destruction will be to kill him.”
Although she had tears in her eyes, Angrboda nodded. Gunnar placed his hand over hers. “Agreed.”
“But Fenrir is a god.” Wilder said. “I thought the whole reason Fenrir had been chained and imprisoned for centuries was because he couldn’t be killed.”
Vigo was getting frustrated. This meeting had to end in a productive outcome. The brotherhood was the peacekeeping force of the werewolf world, but it had been under intense and increasing pressure. In the last five years, they had been involved in almost constant action. Prior to that, they hadn’t been called upon for over four hundred years. In their recent encounters with Fenrir and Chastel, Jenny, Lowell, and Sebastian had all sustained serious physical injuries. They were the scars that could be seen. The mental and emotional price on each of them couldn’t be measured.
Between them, Chastel and Fenrir had systematically targeted the brotherhood members and their mates, exploiting their weaknesses and testing their strengths. Chastel was dead, but they couldn’t relax. It was clear Fenrir no longer needed his ally, and Vigo was seriously concerned about the brotherhood’s ability to keep fighting with the same zeal and constancy.
They were still the strongest. Still the bravest. But they didn’t have an unlimited supply of energy. Fenrir had time on his side. He could wear them down gradually. Glancing around the table at his friends, Vigo could see his own thoughts reflected back at him. There was no lack of enthusiasm for this battle, but they couldn’t fight it forever.
“The gods are immortal and cannot be killed unless there are powerfu
l reasons. In Fenrir’s case the circumstances were unique, but the gods could not allow evil blood to be spilled, either here in Jotunheim or in the human world.” Gunnar said.
“Is that why we couldn’t kill him when we captured him in New York?” Sebastian asked.
“Yes. If we’d killed him, his evil would have acted like a poison in the atmosphere. The only place he can be killed is somewhere his malice can be neutralized.”
“Where will that be?” Vigo asked.
“I was hoping that, between us, we might come up with some ideas,” Gunnar said. “I have to confess that nothing has occurred to me so far. While we think about it, we also need to talk about the brotherhood.”
“I created the Brotherhood of the Midnight Sun many centuries ago to maintain peace within the werewolf world.” Angrboda’s lips twisted into a sorrowful smile. “I never imagined that most of your time would be spent protecting the world from my own children. You have done a remarkable job. But the time has come to ask whether the brotherhood meets the demands of today’s werewolf world”—she looked at each of them in turn—“and whether it is meeting your needs.”
“Our loyalty will always be to you and to the brotherhood.” Vigo glanced at his companions and they nodded their agreement.
“That will never be in question,” Madden confirmed.
“I don’t doubt it, and I will always be grateful for it. I am sure if your fellow werewolves knew of the way you have devoted your lives to them they would extend their thanks to you. But your lives have changed. Most of you have mates. Some of you have young families. Asking you to face death in the name of the brotherhood is unfair to them.”
