Freyja's Daughter

by Rachel Pudelek

  “Faline! Faline!” Marcus’s distant shouts neared.

  The room’s spinning slowed. I blinked with effort. Light careened into my eyes and my temples pulsed. I reached up to hold my aching head, but realized I was smearing blood in my hair and jerked my hand away. The huge Hunter lay sprawled in front of me, his clothes slashed. Blood pooled at his groin. His throat had been slit open. Chunks of flesh were missing from his pecs, shoulders, and biceps.

  I opened my mouth to speak and tasted blood on my teeth. I licked my lips and tasted more. Lethargy draped over me as though I’d woken from a restful nap after indulging in a decadent meal. I blinked again and swallowed before turning to Marcus.

  “Yes?” I asked calmly, but already knew the answer to his insistent calls.

  The wanted woman, Clarisse, straddled Azalea on the bed with a dagger to her throat. “You’ll stay,” she said through gritted teeth. “I know what your kind can do. You’ll prove a handy pet to have around.”

  “What is Azalea doing here?” I asked to no one. She’d told me earlier that she had to stay hidden. And now here she was for everyone to see.

  “I couldn’t leave you here for them,” Marcus explained. “But I can’t carry both you and your sister out. I’ll need a free hand for fighting.”

  You would have killed Marcus if I had not pulled you from your huldra abyss—if he would have tried to awaken you to leave. Azalea’s words filled my mind. I had to step in. It is not his time to go.

  “Enough!” the human woman yelled. Like an animal frightened to the brink of insanity, Clarisse’s chest lifted and fell rapidly. She shot glances all around the room. Her wide eyes settled back on the rusalka. “Promise me. I know you have to keep your promises. Promise me you’ll stay once they’ve left.” She pushed the blade deeper into Azalea’s throat.

  She was reading the wrong folklore—I knew nothing about rusalki having to keep their promises, or huldra for that matter. And obviously mermaids were immune to such a supernatural law. She also didn’t know the rusalki’s beliefs about physical death.

  Azalea spoke audibly to Clarisse. “Your intentions are devious. You belong here with your lords. I do not.”

  The human woman’s head jerked to me. “They are not my lords,” she whispered. “They didn’t tell me to take the fall…for the trafficking. I did it of my own accord.”

  “Put the knife down,” I instructed as calmly as possible considering a disturbed, wanted woman had a sharp object against my friend’s skin. I froze in place so as not to spook her into action.

  “Not my lords!” Clarisse yelled as she pulled the dagger from Azalea’s neck and plunged it into the rusalka’s chest. From the sickening cracking sound, I knew the power of the Hunter’s blade enabled her to break the breast bone and stab Azalea’s heart. “They are not my lords!”

  “No!” I yelled, rushing toward the bed to knock Clarisse off of Azalea and onto the floor.

  The black-haired rusalka did not cry out from the burning pain of the blade. She did not move. She only closed her ice-blue eyes as I tackled her attacker.

  Marcus shifted a squirming Shawna to his right shoulder and leaned over the bed to pull the dagger from the rusalka’s chest. He flung it across the room, far away from both Shawna and Azalea.

  I pinned Clarisse to the floor and shook her shoulders with each word I spoke. “She wasn’t going to hurt you! You didn’t have to kill her!”

  “They are not my lords!” she repeated.

  I shook my head, set on a separate approach. Thoughts of other victims, not just Azalea filled my mind. “You took the fall for the human trafficking ring and now they’re hiding you? Why? What are they planning?”

  “Their plan has already been set into motion. Samuel Woodry, the man you took to jail, saw to that,” she said with a sneer. “I am insurance.”

  “Samuel was working for you? What’s that supposed to mean?” I seethed.

  She refused to answer. She only stared defiantly into my eyes.

  “If you don’t open that mouth of yours I’ll have Arlington PD covering this complex like ants on candy,” I said, wishing for my cuffs. Oh well, my vines were so much more huldra-like.

  “Someone from this compound has probably already called for backup. We needed to leave ten minutes ago,” Marcus said.

  Marcus was right. I nodded and allowed vines to grow from my fingers.

  “Stop, don’t,” he said.

  “You want to leave her? She skipped bail. She’s wanted. All those innocent people whose lives she ruined. She killed Azalea, for goddess sake!”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head and letting out a long exhale. Either Shawna was heavy or I was irritating him. Probably the latter. “There’s only two of us, and we have two Wild Women down. I don’t know if the reinforcements have shown up, so we may need to fight our way out of the compound. Leave her. Alive.”

  “Why the hell would I do that?” I asked, reminding Marcus that I do not take orders from him.

  Marcus sighed. “Because she’s only doing what she’s been told to do. She doesn’t have a choice. She must submit to her father and fiancé. She’s a victim too.”

  “They’re not my lords!” Clarisse screamed.

  I wrapped my fingers around her neck and started counting. But I didn’t finish, didn’t cause the woman to pass out.

  “Fine,” I said, raising my body off of hers. “Give me Shawna and you can carry Azalea.” I wanted my sister. I neared Marcus and Shawna, and gently stroked her right arm.

  But Shawna didn’t lean into my touch, she pulled away from it and hitched her breath as though I’d hurt her.

  “Shawna?” I asked, fighting the tears in my voice.

  Her glazed brown eyes lingered on me for only a second before her lids closed and her head rolled onto Marcus’s shoulder.

  “Fine,” I said, reaching to grab Azalea.

  “She needs her own kind,” Drosera said, stepping from the empty corner of the room as though she’d been standing there moments earlier…which she hadn’t.

  I glanced at Marcus. Maybe Drosera had been there and I hadn’t noticed. But Marcus returned my gaze with raised eyebrows.

  Drosera floated to her sister. Her feet hovered above the floor. Without a word she turned and crouched behind Clarisse. Clarisse shot up to sit and peered around the room, wide eyed. Drosera plucked a hair from the human woman’s head and tied the strand around her wrist before walking to her sister. She gracefully laid a hand on her sister’s wound and in that instant the two rusalki disappeared.

  “What just…” Clarisse stuttered, peering up from the floor. She crawled the two feet to my legs and rested her head on the tops of my bare feet in submission. “Please, I'm begging you. Bite me. Make me one of you.”

  Marcus shook his head with pity. I shook with anger. I pulled my feet from under her as though her touch disgusted me, which it did. I left the room and started down the stairs. I refused to dignify her idiocy with a response.

  The narrow steps creaked beneath my feet. I hadn't noticed the affect my weight had had on the wooden slats before. But then I’d had a one-track mind: find Shawna. Now my mind whirled with possibilities of what’s to come. And seethed with retaliation ideas. Today was Shawna, next we’d begin the search for my mother.

  I fought the urge to hold Shawna’s hand or stroke her arm as she cuddled into Marcus’s arms as though he were her sibling and not me. He walked in front of me, forcing me to watch the top of my sister’s head nuzzle into that spot between his shoulder and his chest. I didn’t blame her. And I didn’t blame him. I blamed the Hunters. I blamed Clarisse.

  “If you take one step out of line you’re dead.” I threw my voice to the female human at the top of the stairs without turning around.

  I decided not to give the human any more details of how the rusalki killed, or that they read minds, or shed light on any of their other abilities. But if I couldn’t end Clarisse for what she’d done, or return her to jail, causing
her to live every second in fear would be at least a consultation prize. So I added a threat before leaving the attic stairwell and entering the second floor through the broken door.

  “That was her sister you murdered. She’s going to kill you. Probably when you least expect it.”

  In the rearview mirror, I watched the compound grounds burn.

  Thankfully, if there’d been reinforcement Hunters called, they hadn’t arrived by the time we’d left. And when they did arrive, they wouldn’t find much more than the burnt rubble of what once was a Hunters’ compound, and what once were Hunters. The moment Marcus and I had left the ruby-lined attic stairwell, the scent of burning wood and flesh had assaulted my senses.

  Apparently, the mermaids had shown up. Honestly, I hadn’t expected them to. But from what I’d gathered, they’d torched every last building on the compound. Records of local huldra, and maybe records of other Wilds, were gone—burnt. Hopefully there were digital records stored off site, but that search would be for another day. I’d have to ask Marcus, seeing as that’s what they’d assigned him to do when he was a young bright-eyed Hunter—scan paper records into the computer.

  Shawna sat sideways, molding her right side to the car’s leather seat. She moaned and cried the entire drive home. The tension in the confined area doubled each time the car hit a pothole and she cried out. Her mother, Aunt Abigale, sat to Shawna’s right in the crossover and I sat to her left. I tried rubbing her back, to comfort her, but she screeched like a frightened owl. Yet each time Shawna’s eyes fluttered open, she watched Marcus, who sat behind us on the third row, as though she were checking to make sure he wasn’t leaving her. He’d had to carry her all the way out to the vehicle because she wouldn’t allow anyone else near her. It made no sense, but now wasn’t the time to pressure her.

  Aunt Abigale stared at her daughter, unable to touch her. My sisters and aunts looked ahead at the road. There was an elephant in the room…or car…and his name was Marcus. None of them liked the idea of inviting a Hunter into the vehicle, let alone a male. But Shawna would have it no other way. Her words only slurred when she talked, but her screeches, splaying arms, and kicking legs got the point across. Aunt Renee had agreed to bring him along. Begrudgingly would be an understatement.

  We rode in silence. No one wanted to upset Shawna any more than she already was.

  Some time later we pulled into our forest-lined driveway. I exhaled deeply for the first time since I’d left that morning. Deep down, I hadn’t expected to see my home again. Without Marcus’s help I would have walked into an ambush, despite the Wilds at my back. I doubted my coterie agreed.

  Aunt Renee parked her crossover right up next to Aunt Abigale’s and Shawna’s tree home. The harpies, mermaids, and succubi stood solemnly around the great evergreen.

  “Where are the rusalki?” Olivia asked.

  “I’m not sure if we’ll ever see them again,” I said. “Azalea didn’t make it.”

  Olivia bowed her head and shook it. “That leaves only three of them.”

  Aunt Renee opened her door first and Eonza approached her as the rest of us emptied from the car. Familiar soil beneath my feet sent comfort through my shaky body. I’d forgotten my boots at the complex, though they were probably burnt to a crisp by now.

  “My wing is hurt,” Eonza pointed out, slightly pulsing her golden wing as drops of crimson blood dripped from its feathers. A black patch of soot smeared across her right arm. “But I am strong enough to fly your wounded to her home.”

  Shawna cried out from inside the car, and I popped my head into the vehicle to see why. She reached for Marcus, who sat in the back row, waiting for the second row to be emptied so he could push the seat forward and exit. But Shawna refused to leave without him.

  Eonza’s gaze darted to the commotion in the car and she leaped away from Aunt Renee. “You brought a Hunter here? To your home? Where my flock is staying?”

  “Just…” I raised my hand in the air. “Can you let us deal with one crisis at a time? Once we get her settled, I promise, I’ll explain everything. But for now, just know that he’s not a Hunter. He’s safe, and Shawna won’t go anywhere without him.”

  Eonza gave a sharp nod, though her eyes tightened. I lowered my hand.

  Marcus crawled over the back seat to sit beside my fragile sister. Once she calmed, he cradled her in his arms and scooted along the seat, out of the car. Low growls reverberated from the Wilds positioned around the evergreen the moment Marcus’s boots hit the gravel.

  “You’re not welcome here,” a voice spit out from the group.

  “She clings to her captor,” another yelled.

  “He’s the one who locked her up and she’s fixated on him,” yet another stated.

  “Ignore them,” I whispered to him, though I knew they could all hear. “Follow me.”

  Aunt Abigale walked beside Marcus while I led them toward her home. The other members of my coterie followed behind. As we neared the old tree most of the Wilds backed up to leave a wide girth between them and the Hunter. Blood smeared their arms. Their torn clothing hung from their shoulders and hips. Exhaustion shadowed their eyes. Purple fist prints sprinkled across their skin. Knotted hair poked from ponytails and down backs. I counted three arm slings and multiple legs wrapped with gauze. And though the plan was to repeat the today’s battle as many times as needed, at other Hunter complexes to rescue their sisters and mothers, today they fought for us, for Shawna. And their appearance showed just how hard they’d fought.

  Still, wings flapped as Marcus passed the women. I noticed Marcus limping on his right leg as he carried Shawna up the first few steps, and I shot a harsh glance to Marie. She quickly looked away and Marcus’s leg seemed fine again. She huffed off toward the common house and her succubi sisters followed. The harpies stood their ground with wings out to appear larger. The mermaids only watched; they didn’t seem to be bothered.

  Aunt Abigale stopped in the middle of the staircase leading to her tree home and placed her hand on Marcus’s bicep for all to see. She spoke loudly, a hidden warning for those who’d stop him from comforting her daughter in her tone. “Thank you for helping my daughter. You can use my bed tonight, young man.”

  I respected that my aunt knew her daughter wouldn’t let Marcus out of her sight for the time being, and all she wanted was what her daughter wanted. Whatever helped ease her daughter’s pain. I couldn’t guarantee that the others would respect it, though.

  Shawna lifted her head. She opened her eyes and smiled at her mother, and then leaned her matted dreads onto Marcus’s shoulder.

  I ached to know what ran through his mind, what the policeman in him was thinking. I’d gone through similar training as him, but he’d had more experience in these types of cases. Was Shawna experiencing post-traumatic stress? Was this Stockholm’s syndrome? Or was this behavior a side effect of the drugs, and would it vanish when the drugs cleared her system? Desperately, I hoped for the latter.

  Thirty-One

  I crept from Shawna’s home and silently shut her door behind me. She’d fallen asleep with Marcus resting on the floor beside her bed. He refused to accept Aunt Abigale’s offer. So she’d gathered blankets and a pillow and made him a makeshift bed on the floor. He’d stayed awake long enough to give me a few details of his time at the complex, but when exhaustion slurred his words, I stopped asking questions. He now snored lightly as Shawna whimpered in her sleep and Aunt Abigale watched her daughter from under her comforter, silently crying.

  I had been summoned to the common house. I couldn’t put off the other Wild Women any longer. They wanted to know our next move.

  The afternoon sun hid behind thick layers of grey clouds as my bare feet crunched along the gravel and padded up the stone walkway. A light mist danced across the air. I paused to breathe it all in: the crisp air, the pine-scented trees, the moist earth. I missed the days when all I had on my mind was the next skip I’d set my sights on. I’d been thrust into the leadership role of
an uprising that I knew little about.

  But someone had to lead it, or it’d never happen. And it needed to happen.

  I pushed through the front door to the common house. The energy in the room stilled with all eyes on me. I was the Hunter-lover. Not to be trusted. Yet I was the leader of this whole thing. I was the one who’d traveled and visited with all the Wild groups. I had the connections and all the details.

  I took a deep breath and shut the door behind me.

  And then I realized what truly plagued their thoughts, deeper than their dissatisfaction with my choice of male helper. Shawna. She’d been taken after their sisters and mothers were taken, and she’d been in bad shape. They probably wondered how much worse their loved ones were, and if we’d get to them in time. Their anger toward Marcus was only an afterthought.

  They needed me. And deep inside, I needed to help them. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t help them, if I didn’t uphold my promises.

  I made my way to the front of the living room and waited for the talking to quiet. “My coterie extends their immense gratitude for your help in rescuing my sister and destroying the local Hunter compound,” I said. “We are ready and willing to return the favor.”

  Eonza stood behind the couch and nodded. Marie sat on the couch. Her red lips turned upward into a smile.

  “We will visit each group’s home, stake out their local Hunter’s complex, and create a plan to infiltrate and destroy the compound and the Hunters in it,” I announced. “We cannot do it the same way twice. We need to assume that someone got away tonight and is spreading the word through the Hunter community of what we did today. The other compounds will know we’re coming. We must assume they’ll be prepared.” Then there was the matter of Clarisse being spared. If she escaped the fire, her people would surely question her.

  “It’ll be easier for us to access compounds closer to larger bodies of water,” Azul said from where she sat on the floor, surrounded in a cluster by the other mermaids. “The river today was not deep enough. We had many problems.”