Erik lay down on his bunk, staying fully clothed. He put his left arm behind his head and rested his right hand on his pistol, which he put on the mattress beside his hip. “Why don’t you go to sleep and find out?”
Ulf chuckled, and he earned a half a point in Erik’s reckoning. It was an improvement. The big man saw his captain looking at him, and he asked, “Do you, like, sleep in a coffin?”
“That’s Hollywood,” Erik said, shaking his head. “I’ve never been in a coffin in my entire life.”
“That’s good,” the man said, nodding. “That would be creepy.”
Stenmark tossed a wadded-up sock at Ulf, who caught it and threw it back. They made eye contact, and Stenmark shook his head once, no. Ulf went silent.
“Let him talk,” Erik told Stenmark. “He’s not hurting anything.”
“Maybe I’m sick of hearing his voice.”
“Maybe we’re all sick of hearing yours.”
Ulf laughed. Stenmark glowered. “Shut up.”
Erik closed his eyes. “I sleep in a bed like everybody else.” He took a breath. “Let’s address the big misconceptions here. Yes, I can move around in the daylight. No, sunlight doesn’t make me burst into flame. I have a reflection. I actually like garlic. As for the rest, you’ll find out tomorrow how a vampire can be killed and what we can do. For now, I’m sleeping.”
“Sounds like,” Sven said.
“-you’re talking,” his twin, Aron, finished.
“Okay,” Erik said, opening an eye. “That’s creepy. Don’t do that anymore.”
“What?” Aron asked. “Finish each other’s sentences?”
“Yes. Exactly that.”
Sven shrugged and went back to his reading. Aron looked at Erik for a long while, almost as if he was really seeing him for the first time. Then he nodded and returned to the book, as well.
Erik rested with his eyes closed, but he did not sleep. He tracked each of the members of his team as they carried on with their night. One by one, they took to their beds, with Stenmark being the last to go. His bed was closest to Erik, directly across the narrow room from him so that they lying with their feet toward each other. He listened to their breathing slow and deepen, and from a lifetime of hunting humans, he was able to detect the moment when they all descended deep into their dreams.
He rose when they were all fast asleep, and he extended his supernatural Draugr abilities to keep them there. It wouldn’t do to have them wake up at an inopportune moment, and the effect of his hold would be nothing more than a deep dive into R.E.M. He solidified his hold and watched them in the darkness to ensure that they were not resisting. They lay like stones.
He went to Stenmark's foot locker and opened it. Inside he found a stack of pornography, underwear, socks, a shaving kit, and some average toiletries. Beneath the porno magazines, though, he found a copy of the man’s release record from Kumla Prison. The release had been under the order of a Kommendör Nicklas Holm of Special Forces Command. He did not recognize the name. He had made it a point to have a passing familiarity with at least the names of his commanding officers. This name he did not know.
A check of the foot lockers of the other men revealed the same contents, minus the pornography. The twins had a stack of fantasy novels, dog-eared and smudged from repeated reading. Ulf had a pile of gun and ammunition catalogs. They all had release papers signed by Kommendör Holm.
Well, now he knew who was behind this scheme. Now he had to figure out who this Holm person was. He’d like to break into the office of Major Ulvaeus, but he knew that the officers’ quarters and offices were regularly patrolled, and he would prefer to avoid beating down any soldiers in his own army. He had known Ulvaeus for years, and he had never steered him wrong. He was one officer that Erik trusted.
He returned to his bunk and settled in to get some sleep, letting his hold on his unit seep away with his consciousness.
***
When morning came, it came early.
The morning revelj, the Swedish Army’s version of reveille, blasted into over the post through loudspeakers, jerking them all into wakefulness. They scrambled into their boots and uniforms and mustered in the yard. Erik stood at attention at the front of his men, who, to their credit, managed to mimic a proper military formation.
Major Ulvaeus walked past, reviewing the troops as he did every morning. He ignored Erik’s group, which was probably for the best. He spared a quick order to Erik before he moved on to the regular army troops.
“Make something of them, Captain.”
“Yes, sir.”
Then the muster was released after roll call, Erik gathered his new unit.
“Listen up,” he told them. “First PT, then breakfast, then it’s the range for instruction.”
“I already know how to shoot a gun,” Stenmark complained.
“But you don’t know what it takes to shoot the targets you’ll be going after. I know you all know how to murder human beings. I’m here to train you how to hunt the Draugr.”
“Maybe we’ll end up hunting you,” the mortal said.
“I heard this threat yesterday. It didn’t impress me then, either. One more threat and you’ll be on report.”
Stenmark smirked. “Yes, sir.”
“Ten miles!” Erik barked. “Let’s go!”
He led the way, and his reluctant team followed, running in their combat boots like real soldiers. He wondered just how much training they had actually received.
He supposed he was about to learn.
***
Nika dressed in a dark green skirt suit and matching pumps, then pinned up her hair into a passable French knot. She had slept poorly, full of dreams of Erik and starting at every random noise in the garden. She hated to admit how vulnerable she felt, living in a strange country with her man so far away.
The Stockholm subway system was meticulous and prompt, and she arrived at the station in front of the museum with plenty of time to spare. The other riders had been polite and contained, not troubling her in the least, unlike the subway back at home, where she could be guaranteed at least one cat call a day. It was a relief to make it to work unmolested.
When she reached her office, she found a bouquet of wildflowers and a card waiting on her desk. The arrangement was simple but beautiful, all sunny colors in a cut crystal vase. She took the card and read it.
Welcome home. All my love, Erik
She smiled and touched the card to her lips, touched by his thoughtfulness. It had been years since anyone had sent her flowers.
There was a light knock on the door, and she looked up to see Dr. Amari standing there, a smile on his handsome face. “Am I intruding?” he asked.
“No, not at all.” She tucked the card back into the bouquet and put down her briefcase. “I found my thesis last night. If you’re having trouble sleeping, I’m sure it’ll be just the thing.”
Amari chuckled and came inside. “My own thesis would probably serve the same for you...but I doubt that I would find your writing at all boring.”
“Well, you haven’t read it yet.” She pulled it out of her bag and offered it to him. “Enjoy.”
“Thank you. I shall.” He tucked it under his arm. “The archaeologist, Dr. Mansson, has brought a new case of artifacts for us to catalog. I thought we might look at them together. We are colleagues, after all.”
She smiled. “It sounds exciting. Where is Dr. Mansson digging?”
“He’s working on a new grave field outside Jordbro. Viking age burials, mostly. Very exciting. The graves he’s working on belonged to a young man of some standing, he said.”
Nika was intrigued. “Wonderful! I can’t wait to see what he’s discovered. What was the condition of the remains?”
Amari grinned and opened the door. “Why don’t you come with me and see?”
She couldn’t resist that invitation. Together they walked into the workshop, where the artifacts were being prepared for entry into the collection. The skeletal re
mains of a tall man lay in on the bench, the bones being sorted into place by a technician. They went closer for a better look.
It was clear that this man had not met with an easy end. Even now, with his skeleton completely disarticulated, she could see cut marks and unhealed fractures. She shook his head.
“What a way to go. It looks like he was hacked to death.”
Amari nodded. “Ancient warfare was a bloody thing, brutal in the extreme.” He peered more closely at the skull, which had two close-set punctures through the cranium. “It looks almost like someone stabbed him with a meat fork.”
She wondered how far apart a Draugr’s fangs might be, and if they could punch through a skull. “Seems like an odd weapon to use,” she said, keeping her supposition to herself.
The technician looked up from her work sorting the carpal bones. “Take a look at his dentition,” she said in English, slightly flavored with a lilting Swedish accent. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Nika and Amari looked closer. The skull sported a row of pockets above the top teeth. Inside the pockets, the tips of sharp teeth showed through. She straightened in surprise. I thought Draugr turned into dust when they died.
“Extraordinary,” Amari said. “What an unusual malformation.”
“It’s fascinating,” the tech agreed.
They moved on to the grave goods, which stood on another workbench. A double-headed axe, corroded and pitted with time, sat amid a set of rusted chains. Other artifacts included a brass torc and a stone carved with stylized wolves howling at the moon. One stone was carved with runes, and both Nika and Amari bent closer to look at it.
“Leithr svik ulfr,” Amari read. “Loathsome treason wolf.”
“Sounds like someone was unpopular,” she said.
Amari chuckled and gestured toward the brutalized skeleton. “Obviously.”
She slipped on a pair of white cotton gloves and picked up the torc. It was engraved with more stylized wolves, and the ends were capped with snarling wolf heads. “This is beautiful,” she said. “The torc was primarily a Celtic ornament, but it was also used by other Bronze Age groups. They were popular here during the Viking age, and this looks like the Viking style. This man obviously identified very strongly with wolves.”
Her companion also donned gloves, and she handed him the torc. He examined it closely. “Maybe we should call this gentleman Fenrir, after the great wolf of Norse myth.”
The technician nodded. “I like that.”
Nika looked down at the dead man’s remains and said, “I wonder what battle he was in that was so fierce.”
“If only the dead could speak,” Amari sighed. He glanced at his watch. “I am so sorry, Miss Graves. I have a meeting to get to. Will you have dinner with me tonight? You haven’t accepted my invitation yet.”
She hesitated, then nodded. “That would be lovely.”
He broke into a brilliant smile. “Wonderful. I’ll make reservations and we’ll go directly after the museum closes.”
“Sounds good,” she said. “Thank you.”
He left them alone with the newly-dubbed Fenrir. The technician smiled at her. “He fancies you, I think.”
“I don’t know,” she demurred. “I’m not sure this is anything but collegial.”
She snickered. “You may tell yourself that.”
Nika stripped off her gloves. “Thank you for letting us poke into your work.”
“No problem.” As Nika walked away, the technician called after her, “Enjoy your date tonight.”
She stopped and was about to protest that it wasn’t a date, but she couldn’t get the words to come. She wondered what Erik would say if he knew.
Chapter Ten
The team assembled on the shooting range, and Erik passed out a clip to each man on the firing line.
“Look at the rounds in these clips,” he instructed. “See anything different?”
Stenmark spoke first, as he could have predicted. “Looks normal to me.”
“Anyone?”
Ulf and the twins examined their ammunition, and all of them shook their heads, looking confused.
Erik explained, “What you’re holding in your hands are anti-vampire rounds. They also work on werewolves and other shape shifters. They’re steel jacketed, like normal rounds, but instead of a lead slug, they’re filled with solid silver. “
Ulf grinned and laughed. “Honest to God? Silver bullets?”
“Honest to God.”
“Who makes these?” Stenmark sounded interested in something other than himself for the first time in ages. It was a good sign.
“There’s a specialty ammunition manufacturer in Lisbon who supplies them.” He put a clip of silver bullets into his pistol. “In all ways, they act just like any other bullet. They’re high caliber, intended for high-velocity shooting. They’ll kill any human just as dead as any other bullet. But unlike lead, these things can actually hurt a Draugr.”
“Lead don’t work?” Sven asked, squinting.
“The impact will leave a bruise, but that’s about it. The wound will heal immediately, and your target will keep running.” He aimed at a target down field and fired – bull’s eye. “But if you hit a Draugr with one of these, you’ll hurt him, badly. The silver will burn, and it will bury itself in soft tissue. They actually burrow through muscle, gut and tendon if they hit a supernatural target. Once they’re in the body, they emit a poison that sickens the target and retards Draugr or shifter healing. Until these babies are cut out, the vamp will be perforated and bleeding.”
“Shit,” Stenmark commented. “Awesome.”
“These bullets give you an advantage. They slow a Draugr down so you can catch them. If you fill the vamp with enough bullets, or if you hit them in the head, you’ll paralyze them. Then you can finish the job with one of these.”
He held up his double-bladed axe. It gleamed in the sunlight, lethal and beautiful.
“What, you hack ‘em to death?” Ulf asked.
“That’s one way to slow them down, but no. You decapitate them.” He put his axe into the holster on his back in one practiced move, seating it without fumbling for the loops. He had been doing this for years. “A stake to the heart will paralyze them, too, but it has to be wood. Metal – unless it’s silver or silver-coated – won’t do the trick. Stone won’t do the job. Wood only. Any kind of wood.”
Aron scratched his chin. “Holy water?”
“That’ll only make him wet.”
“Wolf’s bane?”
Erik shook his head. “That’s a good poison for werewolves and shifters, but not Draugr.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “There are only three ways to kill a Draugr: wood through the heart, decapitation, and immolation.”
“Immo… what?” Ulf asked.
“Immolation. It’s a fancy word for burning them to death.”
Stenmark loaded his silver bullets into his pistol and sighted down the barrel, almost but not quite at Erik. His captain glowered.
“Remember your fire discipline, and – I can’t believe I have to tell professional assassins this – don’t point a gun at someone unless you’re ready to use it.”
Stenmark smiled at him over the sights. “I’m not.”
Ulf kicked his comrade in the ankle, and Stenmark put the gun down. Erik walked over to him and got up in his face, their noses only inches apart.
“I don’t know where you came from or why you of all people were selected for this job. I don’t know why Kommendör Holm thought using the Red Hand was a good idea. Let me tell you this: if you disrespect me one more time, or point that gun at me, or make one more threat, I will not hesitate to beat the shit out of you. Do you understand me?”
Infuriatingly, Stenmark laughed in Erik’s face. The Draugr brought out his fangs and the green vampire lights in his eyes, and he grabbed the man’s throat in a hand bristling with claws. Stenmark blinked and scrabbled at Erik’s hand, choking. Aron took a step toward him, but Erik pointed
a warning finger at him with his free hand, and the twin stopped short.
“Do you understand me?”
“Yes!” he managed to gasp out.
Erik released him with a shove. “You’re on notice, Stenmark.”
The ex-con stumbled and glared at Erik, massaging the bruises on his throat. “Yes, sir.”
They stared at each other with withering spite for a long moment, and then Erik said to the team in general, gesturing to the targets on the range, “All right. Now show me what you’ve got.”
***
Just after the museum closed for the night, Nika met Amari in the vestibule. He greeted her with a warm smile and offered her his arm.
“Shall we?”
She accepted his offer, and they walked together to the professor’s car. It was a shiny new Mercedes, equipped with all of the very best bells and whistles. She settled into the passenger seat and told him, “Nice car.”
He grinned. “Thank you.” As he drove, he said, “I managed to get us reservations at a very exclusive restaurant tonight. A friend had reservations that he couldn’t use, so he’s allowing us to take them instead.”
“That’s very kind of him,” she said.
Amari chucked. “Well, he owes me.”
There was something ominous about that comment, but she chose to let it go.
“I’ve been thinking about our friend Fenrir,” she said.
“Oh?”
“I wonder if perhaps his deformity marked him as spiritually significant. Maybe that was why he was accorded such a rich burial.”
He considered for a moment, and then said, “It’s certainly possible. It wouldn’t be the first time that something like that happened. The only problem with that theory is that there were no artifacts of a spiritual nature with him. If he’d been marked as chosen by the gods, there should have been some sort of priestly accoutrements.” He glanced at her and smirked. “Actually, I have a different theory.”
“What’s that?”
“I think he was a werewolf.”
Nika laughed. “A werewolf? Seriously?”
He chuckled. “They might have thought he was one. There are numerous tales of wolf shifters called the Ulfen. Have you heard them?”
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