Love Beyond the wall (A Rizer Pack Shifter Series Book 1)

by Amelia Wilson

  Luckily, the trip was short, only ten minutes or so of being more spirit than flesh and yet more flesh than spirit. He emerged gasping on the man’s shoulder. The air smelled of Sweden.

  The man carried him through a doorway and up a flight of stairs. They went through a fire door and into the corridor of a hotel. His helpful abductor produced a key card at the fourth door on the right and carried him inside.

  He was dumped inelegantly onto one of the two beds in the room, and the man removed his overcoat, which was now heavily stained by Dominic’s blood. He tossed it aside and stood over the injured Ulfen, his hands on his hips.

  “Now, let’s have a look at you, little wolf,” he said.

  He stripped off Dominic’s torn leather jacket, which he examined minutely, then tossed on the floor. He pulled off the paralyzed man’s motorcycle boots, his socks, his bloodstained jeans, his torn and bloody T-shirt and his briefs. When Dominic was naked on the bed, the man knelt over him, pressing his hands against the bullet hole and the larger incision he had made.

  He chanted in Russian, and Dominic could feel healing energy pouring into him. Part of his spirit rose to meet that energy, binding with it, pulling it into himself with abandon. It was blinding pleasure combined with welcome relief from suffering, and his breath caught in his throat.

  “There, there, little wolf,” the man cooed. “Let Vladimir take all the hurt away.”

  He could do nothing else. The Russian witch worked his magic, then pulled away, wiping his hands on Dominic’s T-shirt. He looked down at him, studying the vampire bite scar on his throat and the dimples on his shoulder from Ardrik’s teeth.

  “So you were bitten by a vampire and you were bitten by a werewolf. Which bite came first, I wonder? And did you know when you were bitten that you were born a witch?” He leaned forward. “I think that’s the truth of you, isn’t it? And why the silver didn’t kill you. Silver is a friend to witches.”

  Dominic tried to will him to release his paralyzing hold, and somehow, Vladimir got the picture. He straightened and clapped his hands twice over the Ulfen’s face, and the spell holding him motionless shattered. The first thing he did was to slide out from under the Russian witch and try to cover his nakedness.

  Vladimir chuckled. “A modest wolf. Now I’ve seen everything. You can use the shower to wash off the blood. I’ll get you new clothes. Yours are ruined.”

  Dominic took a step toward the bathroom, then turned and said, “Thank you for helping me.”

  The Russian witch nodded. “You can pay me back in time.”

  He preferred not to speculate on what form that payment would take. He went into the bathroom and locked the door.

  ***

  When he left the bathroom after a self-indulgently long shower, he found Vladimir sitting on the bed nearest the windows, watching television. A set of department store bags waited on the closer bed, alongside his boots and his jacket. Dominic hesitantly looked inside and found replacements for the garments he had lost, nearly identical to what he’d had before. He dressed.

  “So which was it?” Vladimir asked, muting the television set. The movie he’d been watching continued to play with the sound turned off, silent images flashing across the screen.

  “The werewolf bite came first,” he said. “The vampire bit me about twenty years ago.”

  “Why didn’t she kill you?”

  “How did you know it was a female vampire?”

  Vladimir smiled at him and tapped his index finger against his own temple. “I know many things, little wolf.”

  He sat on the bed to put on his socks and boots. “I don’t know why. She bit to kill, obviously, but then she pulled away. Maybe I don’t taste very good.”

  “Or maybe she realized you were a protected witch and chose not to cause any more devilry.”

  Dominic frowned. “Protected? By what?”

  “By the Great Lady and by the Horned One.” There was reverence in Vladimir’s voice as he named his deities.

  “Sorry,” he said softly. “I just don’t believe in gods and goddesses.”

  The Russian laughed. “Well, they believe in you!” He gestured toward the bed. “There’s money in there for you, if you want to take it. You can go back to Finland and your pack, or you can leave Scandinavia all together. But first I want to know what you know about the Dark Sister.”

  He took a breath. “She’s hard. She was taken by Draugr in Paris. I don’t know where they went.”

  “What do you mean, ‘she’s hard’? Do you mean she’s hard-hearted? Is she mean?”

  “Something like that.” He picked up a bank envelope that had been beside the clothing bags. A stack of Euros two inches thick stared up at him, and he pocketed it without counting the amount. “She doesn’t regret anything she’s done, and she has no love for her father or his intended bride. I think she’s a little scary.”

  Vladimir nodded. “All of the Dark Sisters were. They gave their souls to Hel and to Niflheim a long time ago. Your friend is the last of their sisterhood.”

  “I never said she was my friend. She was a lady in trouble, and I tried to help her out.”

  “Did you try to do anything else?”

  Dominic looked insulted. “Of course not! I’m not a monster.”

  “No, you’re an omega werewolf, and your only chance to get laid is outside of your pack. I wouldn’t have blamed you for trying – of course, it would have been like trying to mate with a cobra, but to each their own.” He turned back to the television. “Did you catch the scent of the vampires who took her?”

  “I’m a werewolf, not a bloodhound.”

  “Of course. You keep telling me all the things you’re not. I wonder, do you know what you are?” Vladimir laughed. “Well, have a good life, little wolf.” He turned the sound back on. “You can go.”

  He wasn’t sure how to react, so he just picked up his jacket and left.

  ***

  Erik rose from bed just before dawn and stood at the bay window in the living room, overlooking the water and the glowing sunrise. He held a mug of dreyri mixed with coffee in his hand, and the heat of the mixture gave the enchanted blood a more palatable taste. He had grown accustomed to drinking cold blood, but he had never grown to like it.

  He could hear Nika’s slow and steady breathing in the bedroom, and he knew that she was too young as a Draugr to awaken yet. He had hours to pass before she would rise from their bed. That gave him time.

  He thought about Mia, and about the misery that had been her childhood. He thought about his brothers, especially Gunnar, to whom he had been closest in both age and affection. He had never expected to face life without Gunnar at his side. They had been through everything together, from boyhood training at their father’s knee to the ritual that had made them Veithimathr, huntsmen of the gods. They had worked together as partners and brothers and friends for centuries. Now Gunnar was gone, and Erik had need of his advice and company.

  In a perfect world, Gunnar would still be alive and would be preparing to stand with Erik when he married Nika. The concept of a “best man” was a curiously modern one, and they would have laughed about it together. In Norse weddings, the man and woman approached the gods alone to seek their blessing and to solemnize their decision to be together. It was strange that modern people needed to involve another man and another woman as glorified servants to take the same oath that Norse couples were strong enough to take on their own. Still, if he’d had to choose some other man to play a part in his one and only wedding, it would have been Gunnar, and they would have smirked at the ridiculousness together.

  Nika expected him to have someone standing with him when they took the weak and watered-down vows that marriages began with these days. He couldn’t disappoint her, so he had to choose someone to take the role. The problem was that he had literally no one left to ask.

  He had destroyed the First for their role in instigating the war with the Faery and for the way they’d forced his daughter
to steal his will away. He didn’t want to believe that Mia had cast the magic to deprive him of his free will because she’d wanted to do it. Still…

  He drained his blood and coffee cocktail. It was time to be honest.

  He had been an absentee father. Worse than that, when he’d been around, he’d been horrible. He had been abusive to Magda, and Mia had been on hand to witness the things that Erik had done to his body slave. If she didn’t hate him with every fiber of her being, she was not truly Norse. He should have expected her to go with her mother, to learn dark magic and plot for centuries for revenge.

  He had to admit the truth. She had meant to enslave and dishonor him. Somewhere, he was certain, she was still plotting his demise. So why was he searching for her now? Nika was right. It was too late to make things right, and Mia would never forgive and forget. She couldn’t. In her place, he certainly would not.

  So, he thought sadly. This will end with me putting my own daughter to death. The only surviving child of my body. He rinsed his mug and put it in the dishwasher, obedient and domesticated as a lapdog. He was filled with distaste. What has happened to me?

  He left a note for Nika advising that he was going for a walk and put on his jacket. After a moment of hesitation, he picked up his axe along with his car keys and left the house.

  Chapter Eight

  Erik drove to Gunnar’s house and opened the door. The house belonged to him now, technically, under the terms of the deed, but in his mind it would always belong to Gunnar.

  From the outside, the house looked like any other suburban Stockholm dwelling, albeit one with heavily curtained windows. That illusion was shattered by the first glimpse through the door. The inside of the house had been completely remodeled, the interior walls removed and wooden pillars installed to replace the load-bearing joists. The house had been remade in the image of an ancient Norse longhouse, with furs and wooden planks on the walls. A bed in the corner was covered with more furs, and wooden benches and elaborately carved oaken chairs surrounded a central fire pit. A hole had been opened in the roof to release the smoke. Weapon racks and shields lined the walls, and it was as close to home as Erik would ever come again.

  He sat in Gunnar’s chair, the biggest and most intricately carved seat in the house. It was shaped like two crouching dragons, their wings forming the back, their back-sweeping horns making the arms. Across from him was another beautiful seat, carved in the image of two antelopes. He had spent many hours sitting in that antelope chair, talking to Gunnar while they drank mead and dreyri.

  He sighed heavily and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, hands dangling. Between his hands, his axe rested with its double head on the floor boards. He gave the weapon a lazy spin, watching the blades rotate.

  “What ails you, brother?”

  He jerked, startled by the sound. Across the room, shimmering and wispy gray like smoke, he could see Gunnar standing, his arms crossed across his mighty chest, his feet firmly planted on the ground. Erik gaped, and Gunnar laughed.

  “What’s the matter, Huntsman? Never seen a ghost before?”

  Erik stammered, “I… Gunnar!” He rose slowly, his axe dropping to the floor. “Is it really you?”

  “In the not-flesh.” He smiled briefly, then turned serious. “I was sent to you with a message from the All-Father. You cannot go forward and backward at the same time.”

  He was stunned speechless. A message from the All-Father? he thought, incredulous.

  His brother’s ghost smiled again. “Say something.”

  “I…” he tried. “I understand.”

  “Do you?”

  “I think so.” He blinked his cobwebs away and smiled. “I’ve missed you.”

  Gunnar waved his hand dismissively. “Eh, I’m always around. Especially in this place.”

  Erik sat again, watching as his brother’s form flickered like a candle flame in the breeze. “I can’t turn Mia back toward the good, can I?”

  Gunnar smiled sadly. “You cannot go forward and backward at the same time.”

  “I’ll take that as a no.”

  “What’s done is done, brother,” the ghost said. “And you should know that you have friends and allies in places you might not expect.”

  He chuckled. “You could be a little less cryptic, you know.”

  “No I can’t. It’s in the ghost rules.”

  “Bastard.”

  Gunnar grinned, then said, “My time is short. Remember that you can always find me here if you need me.” He began to fade. “Be well, Erik.”

  A gust of cold air brushed his face, and then the ghost was gone.

  ***

  Nika woke just before noon and found herself alone. Erik’s note was perfunctory and she wondered if he’d been angry when he wrote it. After a breakfast of cold dreyri and a quick shower, she picked up the phone and called Tamara.

  The phone rang several times, then her friend’s sleepy voice came on the line. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Tam.”

  “Nika, it’s five in the morning. Time zones are a thing.” There was the sound of rustling, and then she asked, “Is everything okay? How’s the test going?”

  “I think he’s getting irritated. He wasn’t here when I woke up this morning.”

  Tamara yawned. “Well, he works for a living, right? Maybe he went to work. Speaking of, shouldn’t you be doing that?”

  Nika sighed. “I told you, I’m still on sabbatical.”

  “Must be nice. Bartenders don’t get that kind of perk.”

  She sat on the couch. “Do you think you can come to Stockholm soon? I mean… to stay?”

  There was a long pause. “You want me to immigrate?”

  “Just get a tourist visa. You can stay for six months, and then we can figure it out after that.”

  Tamara sounded sorely tempted. “I’ll need a job.”

  “Erik is rich, and we own a bar in town now. We can get you set up there if you want. You were a bartender in college, right? We’ll pay better than what’s-his-name, that idiot you work for.” She picked at the edge of the sofa. “I miss you, and I really need a friend.”

  “Honey, what’s the matter?”

  She hesitated, then said, “There’s a lot that I have to tell you, but it would be easier to tell you in person. Please, like I said, we’ll buy your ticket and everything. We can put you up in our house, or we’ll get you a hotel room, whatever you want.”

  She realized that she sounded desperate, and Tamara had been her friend for too long not to pick up the clue. “Okay. I’ll get things worked out on my end and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “Thanks, Tam. I really appreciate it.”

  “No problem.” They both knew that it was a huge problem, but they chose to let it slide. “I want to travel, anyway.”

  Nika smiled, relieved. “Thank you so much.”

  Her friend yawned again, then said, “You can make it up to me by introducing me to some Swedish hotties.”

  She laughed. “You’ve got it.”

  Tamara groaned as she hauled herself out of bed. At least, that’s what it sounded like she was doing, from the sounds of moving fabric and the creaking of a bed spring. “So, are you going to buy my ticket?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good. I’ll email you the deets once I get them figured out.” She yawned again. “I’ll see you soon, sweetie.”

  ***

  Dominic wandered down a street in Stockholm, not at all certain where he was or where he was going. He was surrounded by Draugr, their coppery scent filling his nose everywhere he went. He supposed that the vampire population was elevated in preparation for the vampire king’s wedding to the Rune Master.

  A few vampires passed him on the sidewalk, and they looked at him in shock. He turned away and kept walking, trying to avoid an incident. He wasn’t certain how bold these Draugr might be, and whether they would try to attack him in the middle of mortal company. He couldn’t be too careful, though, as a lo
ne Ulfen without a pack to protect him.

  A slim arm hooked around his, and he looked down into the elfin face of a tiny Draugr woman with brightly colored hair and multiple piercings. She grinned up at him. “Hey, handsome,” she greeted. “Looks like you might need a friend.”

  He blinked in surprise. “Uh…maybe?”

  “I’m Elke,” she said. “And you are?”

  “Dominic.”

  “Nice to meet you, Dominic.”

  “Likewise.”

  She pulled him off of the sidewalk and into a bookstore with a colorful display in the window hawking the latest best seller. He followed her, letting her drag him by the arm into the far corner of the store, were there was a couch and a coffee table set up for casual readers to enjoy. She folded herself up on the cushion and made him sit down beside her.

  “Those guys were going to take you into an alley and roll you,” she told him. “They think they’re really tough, and taking down a werewolf would add to their street cred.”

  He blushed, although he didn’t know why. “Thanks for watching out for me.”

  “No problem. That’s what I do – I’m an assistant.” She giggled at some private joke. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

  Dominic shifted on the couch. “Could I stop you?”

  “Probably not.” She called up a photograph on her cellphone and handed it to him. It was him and Mia, leaving the train in Paris. “Where did you leave her?”

  He sighed. This question again. “She left me. Actually, some other Draugr came and took her. I don’t know who, and I don’t know where.”

  “Too bad.” She tucked the phone back into her pocket. “My boss really wants to find her.”

  “Your boss?”

  “The Huntsman. Her daddy.”

  He stood. “I don’t want anything to do with him, or his wife, or Mia. I’m done.”

  “Maybe, maybe not.” Elke rose, too. She only came up to the middle of his chest. “My boss will want to talk to you.”

  He brushed past her. “I don’t want to talk to him.”

  “Do you really want to go back out there?” she called after him. “They know I work for him, and they won’t jump you while you’re with me. If you go out there, you’re a dead dog…if you’ll pardon the expression.”