The Alien Surrogate (The Klaskians Series Book 1)

by Amelia Wilson

  She pulled away and glared at him. “Yes. Alone.”

  “No,” he smiled. “I don’t think so.”

  His eyes flashed, a speck of green light igniting in the center of his pupil. She tried to recoil, to look away, but something in that gaze held her fast. She could feel all of her will draining away the longer she looked into those deep blue pools.

  He reached over and took her purse away. Her hands fell uselessly to her sides, and she let it go. Without breaking eye contact, he turned her purse upside down, spilling the contents across the bus floor. Wallet, makeup mirror, mascara and lipstick rolled away from her, and she could not find the will to reach for them. She could not bring herself to even look away.

  The young man reached into her purse and tore out the lining with his fingers, feeling through the wrecked bag. She realized that he was looking for the jewel, and cold fear dripped down her spine like ice water. He abandoned the purse with a grin.

  “I guess you have it on you,” he said softly, his voice a nasty purr. He slid closer. “How lucky for me.”

  The bus driver slammed on the brakes. The folding door whipped open, propelled by a push from the outside, and Erik Thorvald sprang into the vehicle. The man with Nika’s purse growled and threw it at him, though Erik easily batted it out of his way. He stalked forward.

  The hold over Nika’s mind shattered, and she could move again. She grabbed her keys and held them between her fingers like claws, rising to her feet and pressing her back against the windows.

  Erik grabbed the young thug by his shoulders and gave him a solid shake. “You tell her,” he hissed, “that this one is off limits. Do you understand?”

  The man snorted. “What? Do you choose her?”

  The words seemed to mortally insult Erik, who retaliated with a fist to the other man’s face. The smaller man staggered backward, tripping over the seat and falling onto his back on the black rubber of the aisle. Thorvald leaned over him, grabbing him by the jacket. He pounded him once more, striking him so solidly that Nika thought she could hear bones cracking.

  Sam came out of his seat with a blackjack in his hand. He swung wildly and brought it down on Erik’s head. The man winced but did not fall. Instead, he turned to face the driver with a furious growl. He pulled the weapon out of the driver’s hand and flung it across the bus.

  The man in the leather jacket took advantage of Erik’s distraction and bolted, running to the door and leaping out onto the street. He raced away down the sidewalk with all the speed of an Olympic sprinter and was gone.

  Sam put his arms out and stepped between Nika and the angry Swede. “Don’t you hurt her,” he warned. “I already called the cops.”

  Erik rose to his full impressive height. “I am not going to hurt you. I came to protect her. Are you all right, Miss Graves?”

  She nodded. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine. Sam, it’s all right. I know Mr. Thorvald. He was just defending me.”

  Sam looked unconvinced, but she smiled for him encouragingly. Erik took her elbow in his hand, not ungently, and guided her out of the bus. She went with him.

  “I don’t know who that man was, or how you managed to get here at just the right moment, but thank you.”

  He pulled her down the sidewalk, moving rapidly. Apparently, the wound in his leg was causing him no trouble.

  He escorted her along the path to her home without asking for directions. Erik was watchful the whole time, turning his head to watch the street and looking up at the sky and the roofs over their heads. His discomfort was making her paranoid, and she disliked the feeling.

  When they got to her building, she unlocked the outer door and held it open for him. He took it in his hand and hesitated on the threshold for a moment, taking stock of the entrance as well as the street behind him.

  “Come in,” she said.

  He nodded. “Thank you.” He stepped through, and she locked the door behind him.

  They took the stairs in silence. For a big man, he was light on his feet, not stomping up the stairs the way her neighbors sometimes did. That wary look was still on his face, and he frequently turned to look back the way they’d come.

  Her apartment was on the fourth floor, taking up the southwestern corner of the building. She hurried to her door and put her key in the keyhole. Erik stood close beside her, watching as she fumbled with the lock. She took a deep breath and squeezed her fists, trying to will her fingers to stop shaking.

  Erik caught her hands in his. His skin was cool to the touch, his knuckles showing no scuffs or bruises from the fight on the bus. She could detect no sign of burns or cuts on the hand that had caught the sword. She looked up into his eyes, and he promptly looked away.

  “It’ll be all right,” he told her softly. “I will keep you safe, my lady.”

  It was a strangely archaic thing to say, but she took comfort from it. She reluctantly removed her hands from his grasp and returned to the door. She managed to open the lock this time, and she pushed open the door.

  “Am I invited?” he asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Of your own free will?”

  Nika was confused. “Yes,” she said, perhaps a little more sharply than she intended. “Of my own free will.”

  He took a breath. “Thank you.”

  She held the door as Erik walked into her foyer. He turned to face her and she closed the door and set the chain.

  “I am glad that you have numerous locks,” he said. “You live alone. You need to be safe.”

  She tossed her keys into a china dish on the console table beside the door. “Yes, I live alone... but you sound like you already know that.”

  Erik nodded, a lock of his blond hair brushing his forehead. “Yes. I know.”

  “And you knew exactly where I live.”

  “Yes.”

  She pushed past him, going into the kitchen. Her butcher block sat in the back corner of the counter top, and she put her hand near it. “That’s a little creepy, you know.”

  He had the good grace to look embarrassed. “I… I know. My apologies. It’s my duty to know the people who come in contact with the Rune Sword.”

  Erik seemed to realize that he was making her nervous, so he backed away from her, putting more space between them. He put his hands behind his back and stood almost up against the wall.

  “You’re not the average security guard,” she said, shaking her head. “Would you like a drink?”

  “No, thank you. But don’t let me stop you.”

  She opened the refrigerator and chose a bottle of water. She would have liked something stronger, but she didn’t want to risk having her mind dulled. There would be time enough for that when Thorvald left.

  She swigged her water. “Who are you, really?”

  A startled expression crossed his face. “I am Erik Thorvald.”

  “Yes. I remember your name from the museum. But who are you?” She faced him, leaning her hips against the dishwasher. “Why were you assigned to guard a sword?”

  “The Rune Sword is incredibly valuable.”

  “Did Stockholm know that someone was going to try to steal it?”

  “Well, we suspected that they would try to take the sword,” he admitted.

  “Who is ‘they?’ And was that creep on the bus part of ‘them?’”

  He considered her for a moment, his jaw muscles twitching. Finally, he spoke. “Perhaps we should sit down for this part.”

  She followed him into the living room, where he sat on the edge of the sofa, his hands clasped on his knees. She perched on an armchair, safely out of his reach and with the coffee table between them, just in case.

  “So… tell me. Who are you, who are they, and why do they want the sword so badly?”

  He sighed. “I am an operative with the Swedish Special Operations Task Group. They call themselves the Draugr. And the sword… the sword belongs to them.”

  Nika frowned. “The sword was excavated by a team from Stockholm University,” she rem
inded him. “It belongs to the museum in Stockholm, if it belongs to anyone.”

  “No.” He ran a hand over his head, mussing his carefully-combed blond hair. “Not exactly. It’s much more complicated than that.”

  She rose. “I don’t know how that woman tore my museum apart today. I don’t know how I saw what I saw, but I know I saw it. Those teeth! I’ve heard of some weird body modification stuff that people do, but that was… extreme.”

  She took a deep breath and began to pace.

  “And then I was almost assaulted on the bus, and you came out of nowhere to save my bacon from some weird group that calls themselves the Draugr, which means that they either play too much Skyrim or they think they’re undead.”

  She heard her own words, and an unwelcome thought dawned upon her. She wrapped her arms around herself. Thorvald simply watched her silently.

  “My God. That woman who stole the sword - she really was a Draugr, wasn’t she? A revenant.”

  “Not revenant,” he corrected. “Vampire.”

  Chapter Four – The Draugr

  She blinked once, then narrowed her eyes. “There are no such things as vampires.”

  Thorvald rose from his own seat and walked to her, closing the space between him with one stride. He ended up only inches away from her. He pulled his lips back, displaying his long, white teeth.

  “Yes,” he said softly. “There are.”

  She should have backed away. She should have thrown him out of her apartment right then, called the cops, started screaming. There were a hundred things she should have done other than what she did.

  She did nothing.

  He took her silence as an invitation to explain. “The Draugr are a very ancient race. We are vampires, but not in the sense of your Hollywood vampires. We were created by very dark magic in very dark days, centuries ago.

  “When mankind was young and savage, there was a man named Hakon. He was brutal. He was subject to the worst excesses, the worst vices, the worst violence. He had no sense of honor. He killed for the joy of killing.

  “When Odin, the All-Father, saw this, he sent the vala to confront him. The vala are the wise women, the priestesses and the keepers of ancient lore. They are sorceresses. Very powerful.”

  He watched her carefully for a reaction. When there was none, he continued his story.

  “The vala went to Hakon and told him that he had earned the enmity of the gods, and that if he did not amend his ways and become a proper king instead of just a butcher, he would be punished. He did not listen.

  “So one night, when he was in a drunken orgy in his longhouse, the vala and the Aesir – the old gods of the Norse – visited their wrath upon him. Through blood magic, they cursed him and his followers to be immortal, to be the Draugr, but not as a reward.

  “For all time, they would be driven by a need for blood, a constant thirst that would consume them and drive many of them mad. They would live forever until they worked off the gods’ anger through enough good deeds.

  “Hakon, instead of being chastised, took his immortality as a challenge and a license. He became ten times worse than he was before, but now he had the strength and the supernatural abilities to visit death and destruction not just on his own kingdom, but on all of Scandinavia.

  “It had to stop. The vala came together at the Temple at Uppsala, and they called those Draugr who wished to serve the Aesir instead of Hakon. These Draugr were enchanted to calm their thirst, and while we were somewhat weakened in body, we were purer in spirit. That was the birth of the Veithimathr – the Huntsmen.

  “The Veithimathr and the vala had the greatest blacksmith in Uppsala create a sword. When that was done, the goddess Ithunn herself came down from Asgard and placed a curse upon it. The Veithimathr sealed the curse with blót, or blood sacrifice.

  “From that day, the Veithimathr and the Draugr were sworn enemies, and the Huntsmen pursued them until they found Hakon and his inner circle. They slew many and took Hakon captive. He was given to the vala.”

  He leaned toward her again, emphasizing his words with the seriousness in his gaze. Nika’s throat tightened.

  “Hakon was the one buried in that ship. The Rune Sword contains the only magic that could keep him underground. When the archaeologists dug him up and moved the sword, he was freed… partially.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “Believe me, I wish I was.” He reached into the pocket of her skirt with his fingers, fishing the jewel out and into the light. It flared between them, casting their faces in the green glow. “This piece… this is the Sálsteinn.”

  “Soul Stone.”

  “Yes.” He held the jewel between his thumb and forefinger, bringing it up in front of her eyes. “When he was chained to the boat, and when the sword was put on top of him to keep him trapped, this stone was in the hilt. It was enchanted. As he lost physical power, the magic in this stone drew him in, trapping his essence.”

  She could hardly believe she was asking the question. “So… is his spirit trapped in there?”

  Erik nodded gravely. “Yes.”

  “How did you know I had it, or which pocket it was in?”

  “I am drawn to the sword and to everything about it. I can feel this stone, wherever it is. And so can they.” He wrapped his hand around the jewel, hiding it in his palm. “They will be coming for this.”

  Nika shivered.

  He continued to explain. “The Draugr want the sword and the Soul Stone so that they can reunite their chieftain’s spirit with his body. Once they do that, he will rise again, and they will be a force of ruin in this world.”

  “Then we can’t let them have it. We have to destroy it. Crush it, or hide it, or -”

  “No.” Erik shook his head. “If we destroy the jewel, he will be released. His spirit will go straight back to his body, but he will be unable to enter it. We would be creating a powerful and unquiet ghost, almost a demon. And if we hide it, they will find it, because they are drawn to it, as I said.”

  She backed away from him. “Take it. I don’t want anything to do with it.”

  “It’s not that easy.” He watched her sorrowfully.

  “Why not?”

  He stepped closer to her again. She didn’t know why he insisted on being so close, or why she felt so comforted to have him there when she should have been afraid.

  “The stone called to you. That means that you are part of this, whether you want to be or not.”

  She backed up again, and the backs of her knees bumped the chair she’d been sitting in. She nearly fell, but he caught her, his hand around her wrist.

  “What does that mean?” she asked. “Why does it call to me?”

  “It calls to you because it recognizes its own.”

  She sat heavily. When she spoke, her voice was very, very small. “What?”

  He crouched in front of her and weighed his words carefully. “It recognizes someone with immortal blood in their veins.”

  Nika didn’t know whether she wanted to laugh or cry, so, to her embarrassment, she did both.

  “Many people are descended from the immortals,” he said, trying to reassure her. “They are part of the histories of many, many families in Sweden and Norway. It’s not unusual, and it doesn’t make you a monster.”

  “No, no. Only a partial monster.” She wiped the moisture from her face angrily. “So, when the man on the bus asked you if you had chosen me, what did he mean?”

  Erik rose and went back to the couch. His sudden absence from her personal space left her light-headed.

  “It was nothing. Just foolishness.”

  “Are you one of the Draugr?”

  He looked down and opened his hand, showing her the jewel resting on his upturned palm. The green light was pulsing. He raised his eyes to hers. “What do you think?”

  “I think… I think you’re Veithimathr.”

  He nodded. “Yes. I am.”

  “And the man on the bus?”

  “He is Dr
augr.”

  She propped her elbow on the arm of the chair and rested her head in her hand. “Oh, my God,” she sighed. “I can’t believe this.”

  Erik closed his hand and tucked the gem into his own pocket. “I’m so sorry.”

  She had a million questions whirling in her mind, but she could only give voice to one. “Why are you telling me all of this?”

  He sighed. “I wish I didn’t have to. Unfortunately, you have come to the Draugrs’ attention. Their agent saw you in the museum and knew you for what you are, and Astrid… Astrid knows, too.”

  “Is Astrid a Draugr?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means it’s complicated.”

  “Like the rest of this is simple?”

  He sighed. “Astrid is Valtaeigr, which means the arm on which the falcon rests. She is dedicated to Odin. She is one of the vala.

  “The vala are the wise women, as I told you before. They’re also known among the Draugr. They are the only vampires who can use magic.”

  Nika tried to wrap her head around what he was telling her. It was all too much. “So she’s a vampire, too?”

  “Yes.”

  She shook her head. “Of course she is.”

  He shifted slightly. “Now that they know you, they will be coming for you.”

  She covered her eyes with her hand. This cannot be happening, she thought miserably. “Coming for me for what reason?”

  “To take you to him. To use your blood to complete the ritual that will bring him back to life.” His voice was flat, but his eyes were bright with conflicting emotions that she could not identify.

  “I think they want to sacrifice you, because only the blood of the Valtaeigr will complete the spell.”

  Nika thought back to Astrid’s questions about her origins, and the loaded tone in the Swedish woman’s voice made much more sense to her now. “And Astrid, what is her part in all of this?”

  “It is her job to keep him from rising, just as it’s my job to protect - and now retrieve - the Rune Sword. And now, my lady, my job is to protect you as well.”