Thunder Hunter: Viking Soul Book 1 (Viking Soul Series)

by Rachel Medhurst

  “Rusty, don’t tell your owner, but I need to go back to her house to check out the bodies of Loki’s descendants. Will you keep her company when I’m gone?”

  6

  Decomposing Truth

  THE BLACK WATER was silent as I cut the engine of the boat, cruising it to the jetty. When I had locked Chloe in my apartment, she hadn’t been too pleased, but had agreed to stay put. The last thing I needed was her getting in my way.

  Tying the boat, I looked up at the house. It was in darkness. That was a good start. No police or ambulance lights flashed around the front. Did anyone know that the residents were dead? Had they already cleared them away?

  My steps were soft on the grass as I held the gun close to my chest and approached the dark pile by the bush. My dagger was tucked in a sheath on the inside of my jacket. Getting closer, I frowned down at the now empty pile of clothes. The bodies of the men had disappeared but their garments still laid on the ground. They must have been some kind of magical mortals, instead of the humans I first assumed they were.

  The chilly night breeze rushed over me as I went through the holly bush and into the garden.

  The shadows were still as the leaves rustled ever so slightly. The moon was high and full, highlighting the various toys on the ground. Toys that no longer had owners. Pushing away the sentimental thought, I moved to the side door quickly, checking if it was still open. It was.

  Creaking slightly, the door swung open easily. Stepping inside, I checked the shadows as best as I could. Blinking, I pictured a lightning bolt. Thor’s power had come in handy a few times before. My sight enhanced as I opened my eyes and light shone from them, illuminating the room. I sent a thank you up to my grandsire. There were perks to having a god’s power inside of me.

  Going to the door of the kitchen, I let myself into the hallway, careful to close my eyes to switch off the glow so I didn’t attract attention if there happened to be anyone around.

  Silence resounded around me. Unless there was a very clever soul hiding somewhere, no one was in the house. Now, to find the bodies. Maybe the way they were killed would give me a clue as to who had done it.

  Feeling more confident, I moved through the downstairs rooms. A thought hit me as I stood at the bottom of the stairs, ready to ascend. Chloe had said that some of them went out to work. Had they killed all of them, or was there someone out there who would come back to their dead family? Or, worse, had already come back to find them slaughtered and cleared up the mess themselves.

  The underworld rarely got police involved in their business. It sickened me to admit it, but I was part of that world. People knew of me, yet, they weren’t completely clued up on my story. If they were well informed, I got rid of them. I didn’t need them to go crying to the Fallen Ones.

  The stairs were well made, they didn’t creak as I made my way up. My light was in check as I rounded the middle, keeping my back close to the wall and the gun aimed in front of me. Not a single sound reverberated around me. In fact, the quiet was unnerving in itself.

  The smell hit me as I got to the top of the stairs. Covering my nose with my free hand, I tried to hold back the gag that stretched my throat. It didn’t work. The bodies were still there.

  Following the stench that filtered through the air, I tip-toed into the first bedroom. Blinking, I brought light to my eyes to illuminate the room. A middle-aged man and woman lay side by side, in their bed, their eyes closed. They looked asleep, but the smell of them told otherwise.

  Edging closer, I flicked the cover off them. They were naked, their bodies laid out as if they were asleep. The one saving grace for Chloe was that they had no idea about their death. It was obvious they went in their sleep.

  No blood covered the bed. Their necks weren’t twisted at odd angles. How had they been killed?

  Moving my gaze over them, I bent down to check for anything to suggest what had taken their life. The woman’s hair was spread out over the pillow. I didn’t touch it, not wanting to make any contact with…

  Something caught in the light as I moved up to look at her face. My eyes searched her neck, where a red welt stuck out from under the blonde hair. Using the tip of the gun, I moved the hair. The muscles in my body went solid.

  The rune Hagalaz was burnt into her skin. It was small, only a tiny little brand on her pale skin. Hagalaz was the rune of disruption and the unknown. It certainly represented the current situation I was in. The brand was obviously magic. There were no other marks on them to blame for their death. Someone had killed Loki’s family, someone powerful enough to have magic. A witch most likely. It may have helped with my job, but the Viking reference made my chest cold as ice.

  Checking the man, I revealed the same mark on his thin neck before I draped the duvet back over them to cover their dignity, even though their souls were no longer in their body.

  I went to the next room. A middle aged woman was sprawled on the floor, her smart dress telling me that she was obviously about to leave for work when the men turned up.

  Crouching, I shone the light from my eyes onto her neck. Yep, the same. Not bothering to hang around, I went into another room. The walls were painted with pictures of cartoon characters. Two small beds were on opposite sides of the room. The smell was just as strong in the eerie bedchamber.

  Could I bring myself to look at the dead bodies of children? Taking a deep breath, I edged closer. A small smile was frozen onto the face of the first boy. If things had been different, I would probably have killed him twenty years from now. At least his soul rested in Valhalla.

  A loud bang sounded from downstairs, causing me to tear my eyes away from the dead child. Someone had come in the front door. The sound of giggling drifted up the stairs as I moved into the hallway, blinking my eyes to shut off the light.

  “Be quiet, we’ll wake everyone up,” a female voice whispered.

  One of the family members had survived. I had to sneak out before she found me. There was no shame in killing someone who tried to kill me, it was just self-defence. However, I wasn’t the type to finish off someone else’s dirty work. Slaughtering a descendant of Loki would have to wait until another day if I wanted a quick exit.

  “Are we going upstairs?” A male voice interjected.

  Keeping my gun by my face, I waited at the top of the stairs. My breath was silent in the cool air. I was used to the smell of bodies that were now well into the decomposing stage.

  “No, my bedroom is down here. Come on, lover.”

  The door of a downstairs room opened and closed. I sent a thanks up to Thor and Freya. Even if they couldn’t interfere too much down here, I was grateful for the circumstances.

  Keeping my feet light, I crept down the stairs slowly, making sure to listen for the door of the room again. The smell would hit the woman in the morning, but the house was big and spacious. And, she had sounded a little drunk. I almost felt sorry for her. It wouldn’t be a pretty sight when she eventually woke up and searched for the cause of the smell. My sentiment soon relinquished. The woman had been planning to kill me. As were all the other victims.

  Sounds of laughter and kissing came from behind the door next to Chloe’s room. Did she have to listen to her cousin have sex all the time? I could just imagine that look of disgust she wore on her face. I better not bring any of the women I engaged with back to the apartment. Not that I did, anyway. It was none of their business where I lived.

  My gun was still high, my footsteps still silent. Going into the kitchen, I decided that I had seen everything I needed to see. Whoever had killed Loki’s family had something to do with Norse Mythology. That’s what the branding suggested. I sucked back the snort that almost zipped up my throat.

  Thor’s thunder beat in my chest as I thought of my grandfather. A weird longing radiated out from me, as if the magic inside called to its original owner. As I stepped out of the house, I frowned to myself. Surely the power could at least appreciate that I was keeping it warm for Thor.

  Gl
ancing over my shoulder one last time, I made sure to remember what the house looked like. The rune Hagalaz meant something to the people who had killed my enemies. And, if they had killed them, were they looking for me?

  Or, did another god just become involved with the war between Freya, Thor and Loki?

  7

  Dark Crawlers of the Night

  THE DEMONS DANCED with the sheep as I wound myself through the club. It was heavy, the air thick with smoke. The management didn’t stick to the law when it came to smoking. Why should they? The police that visited the club were as corrupt as the people in it.

  A woman eyed me, her gaze grazing over my body as I passed her, placing my hand on the small of her back to steady her as she moved against me.

  “You look like my type,” she shouted, reaching up to flick my ponytail behind my shoulder.

  The corner of my lip lifted into my cheek. “And, you look like mine. I’ll come and find you later.”

  Her pout, blood red from a dark shaded lipstick made me instantly want to drag her to the bathroom and let her wrap those lips around me. I resisted. I had to find Jack. Leaning down, I ran a tongue around her ear. “Wait for me.”

  My whisper made her shudder. She would be able to feel the power pulsating through me. I hadn’t ever had to look for a woman to fuck. They were able to feel Thor’s magic rushing through me, calling out to them. If I were a more sentimental man, I might wonder if anyone would ever want me for me. But, I wasn’t that person. As long as I could sink myself between a pair of sweet legs, I was happy.

  I bumped into a shorter man as she nodded, licking the red swell of her lips. The enticement was everything the underworld stood for. Temptation, debauchery, nastiness. All things that I had come to tolerate. Although, I kept my distance, not making any friends. Except one.

  “Trygger, what the fuck are you doing here?”

  Jack’s voice pulled me away from my fair lady. His hand clutched my shoulder, guiding me out of the gyrating bodies on the dancefloor and towards his private booth.

  “I need to talk to you,” I replied, looking down at him.

  His mousey hair was cut short at the sides, long on top. The denim jeans that encased his legs were like a second skin, exposing the line of his genitals so clearly, I had to make sure to keep my gaze above his waist every time I spoke to him. Men were not my personal flavour.

  “You do look sexy in your fighting outfit, did I ever tell you that?” Jack waved away his harpies, both women and men.

  I stepped into the circular leather booth, lowering myself in the centre so I could watch through the gap. There were two things I was keeping an eye out for. My luscious lady…and my enemies. If there was one thing about this club that had me on edge…it was the amount of magic encased in the creatures that let loose on their inhibitions.

  “Is it safe to talk here?” I asked my friend, accepting the glass of whiskey the waiter handed to us both.

  Jack lounged back in the seat, one foot up on the table in front of us. A pair of sunglasses sat on the top of his head, his fluffy fringe sticking up in front of them. The white shirt he wore had black guns printed on it. He liked his weapons, even if he didn’t look like the type.

  “Well, you’re a bit fucking serious, ain’t you? Here I was, thinking that you might finally want my body, when really, you want to talk business. I thought we were going to do that in a few days’ time, my boy.”

  Jack downed his whiskey, gesturing to the waiter to put the bottle on the table. Once the man moved away, I leant closer to my contact and stared at him. He was distracted by the bodies writhing on the dancefloor, the exotic beat of the rhythm slow enough to give the dancers a chance to swirl their hips.

  “I can feel your beady eyes all over me, Trygger, it’s making me feel all funny,” Jack said, raising his eyebrows when he looked at me.

  Black eyeliner highlighted the bright blue of his piercing gaze. The man was a typical British looking kind of man. And, the ladies…and men…loved him. And, he loved them.

  “Okay, okay, mate…” he said, raising his hands in the air. “Let’s escape to a more private room.”

  Wiggling his eyebrows at me, he got to his feet, grabbed the bottle of booze and waltzed out of the booth, his finger clicking to the beat as he checked that no one watched us. Following, I did the same. You could never be too careful in a club full of darkness.

  “No Dark Crawlers in here tonight?” I said as we went behind the bar and through a black door that blended into the wall.

  Jack waved his hand in the air, not bothering to look round at me. “No, they’re banned. Management had enough of the fights. There’s only so many times a bouncer can stop the vile creatures from jumping bodies and leaving the dead host laying on the dancefloor. Not good for the consumers when all they want to do is have a good time.”

  Jack was management. Well, partly. His father owned the club, but Jack had taken a keen interest in it as soon as he turned eighteen. It had been a wonderful spot for famous people, but since Jack’s interest blossomed, it was taken over by the bad and ugly underworld. Mafia, criminals, witches and dark spirits lingered in the shadows, doing their dodgy business. There was probably a human serial killer or two, but I didn’t pay much attention to the clientele. All were corrupt, revelling in their sordid desires.

  I didn’t reply to him as we went into his office. The walls were made of leather. He had designed the room himself, his eccentric tastes obvious from the metal chains and handcuffs attached to everything.

  Lowering himself into his chair, he pointed at the sex swing in the corner. Its chains were attached to metal hooks that hung from the ceiling. “Have you ever had a go? The positions you can do in that are…”

  Putting my hand up, I silenced him with a glare. I had much more important things to wrack his brain about. His sexual prowess was the last thing on my mind.

  “I may as well down this bottle to drown my sorrows. You killed my buzz, grumpy bum. Anyway, what the hell can I do for you?”

  Taking a swig of the whiskey, he slammed it back down on his desk. I sat in the seat opposite him, snatching the bottle from his hand and taking a generous gulp.

  “Circumstances have changed for me. But, first, let me tell you about something I saw an hour ago.”

  Jack sat back, his fingers linking over his chest. His interest was piqued, I could tell by the attentive way his bright blues stared, waiting for me to go on.

  “Have you ever heard of the rune, Hagalaz?”

  The slow motion of his blinking eyes told me all I needed to know. He had. Now, if my contact knew about runes, he might just know what Hagalaz was connected to. Or, more importantly, who.

  His eyebrows rose as he regarded me. I waited for him to answer, even though I already knew what he was going to say.

  “No, I-”

  “Come on, Jack, you know me by now.” Taking another gulp of the whiskey, I grimaced as the fiery liquor laced my throat.

  My contact sat forward, his energy changing entirely. His shoulders hunched over as he leant on the desk, his gaze intent on me. “You know I would do anything for you, Viking. But, this? You’re asking too much, mate. There ain’t no way you’re getting me involved with whatever you’ve seen tonight.”

  As a fan of the underworld, it was unlike my friend to shy away from its mysteries. His inquisitive nature made him one of the most popular people in London. The streets vibrated with his name and reputation.

  “I’ve never known you to be scared of anyone.” Getting up, I placed the bottle carefully on the desk. “Which means there’s something I need to know.”

  Jack waved me away, sitting back in his seat and pretending to relax. The stiff way he held his head was the only thing that gave him away. A normal person would never feel the underlying nervous energy that vibrated in the room.

  “This is not the place.” The words were bitten through his teeth, almost inaudible.

  Nodding, I placed my hands on either
side of the desk and leant forward to shorten the distance between us. He obviously worried about customers’ ears inside the club. It was a place that attracted witches and all kinds of dark entities.

  “Come to my place as soon as you can.”

  His nod was small, but his word was always final. My contact had information that he hadn’t voluntarily given me. We had been working together for a while. There had to be a reason why he had kept his mouth shut for once.

  Looking at his ridiculously expensive watch, he grinned when the dim light reflected on the crystals. “Give me until day break, I’ll be there.”

  The sound of pounding footsteps in the hallway interrupted our little conversation. Stepping away from the desk, I waited for the door to open. A tall dark-skinned bouncer looked straight at Jack.

  “There’s a Dark Crawler here. He’s already killed two people. No one has taken much notice of him, we’re trying to keep it on the quiet.”

  “Fucking wanker. I’m coming,” Jack said, swigging from the whiskey bottle one last time.

  Tucking his shirt in when he stood up, he ran his hands over his hair as he made his way to the door.

  “Need help?” I asked, rubbing my chest and sniffing the air.

  I thought the heat had been from the whiskey. Thor’s power had been trying to alert me to the bastard crawler who had managed to sneak into the club. I was beginning to smell the fucker, and it grew in intensity by the second.

  “Trust me,” the bouncer said as we moved into the hallway. “This guy’s a motherfucker. I’m not sure one man will be able to sort him.”

  I chuckled low in my throat as Jack barked out a loud laugh. “Trust me, my man, this ain’t no ordinary fella.”

  The bouncer watched as we went into the club, our eyes instantly drawn to the dancefloor. My chest pounded harder as my gaze searched the people that dry humped each other in time to the beat of the music. Jack would find it hard to determine who the Crawler was.