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

by Rachel Medhurst

  “I heard you’re the man I need to speak to if I want to find out about…” He gestured at the painting, his lips pursing in disgust. “…this world.”

  He was facing Jack now, his back turned to me. I kept my expression blank as a smile spread on Jack’s lips. He was feeling more comfortable at the idea of doing what he did best. Maybe my first reaction had been off. If the man was looking for revenge for his daughter, I would happily help him get it.

  “Can we go somewhere more private where you can explain what happened?” Jack asked, looking around us.

  I did the same, checking the people in the gallery. They were admiring the paintings or drinking tea while chatting. No one looked suspicious.

  The man nodded once, leading us away from the painting. Pausing before I followed, I got my phone out and took a picture of it. Maybe it would help Chloe track the Fallen One.

  “Trygger,” Jack called from a lift in the corner of the gallery.

  Going over, I ran my gaze over the man again. His grief was evident in the way he held his shoulders, sunken in with his back hunched over. My instincts told me that I could trust him. My gut was never wrong.

  “Thank you so much for agreeing to speak with me. It was purely by chance that I saw you at the gallery today. I was going to contact you privately, but when I spotted you on the camera monitors, I knew I had been sent a sign by my daughter.”

  I faced forward as the lift door closed and Martin pressed a button. Jack laughed a little, putting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing.

  “I always say that there ain’t such a thing as coincidence, don’t I, Hunter?”

  “Hunter?” The man’s cheeks blotched red, the pits of his skin staying pale against the contrasting colour.

  “Just a nickname,” I said, glaring at Jack.

  Martin nodded as the door opened. The lift spat us out into a hallway that led to one door. Resting my hand on the gun at my back, I followed the other two. When Martin let himself into the room, he gestured for us to go in. I raised my eyebrows at him. It was time to let him know that I wasn’t as easily led as my friend. There would always be a part of me on guard, even if my instincts said that I was safe.

  The corner of his lip rose as he went into the room behind Jack. A large white walled office opened up to a small balcony. One wall was made of complete glass and overlooked the River Thames.

  Moving to a group of sofas in front of a fake roaring fire, Martin gestured for us to sit. I paused as Thor’s thunder thumped in my chest. Looking at the white wall, I blinked a few times. The power wanted me to see something. As I stared, the others chatted between themselves about the view. Slowly, my eyes started to blur and a slightly darker shade of paint showed through the white.

  “Please, take a seat. Can I offer a drink?”

  Scanning my eyes over the whole wall, I swallowed as hundreds of small runes appeared in my eye line. They had been painted over, covering their glaring ancient symbolism.

  “Trygger, join us!” Jack ordered, jolting me from my staring.

  Shaking myself, I went over to them, lowering myself onto the edge of the chair. Jack had asked for a whiskey it seemed. A bottle was brought out from under the table. Martin poured three, pausing when he offered me the glass.

  “Did you see them?”

  He must had caught me staring like an idiot. I should have been more discreet, but the revelation had caught me off guard. The runes were every imaginable version, yet, one jumped out at me. Hagalaz. It was mixed in, not obvious, but it was reoccurring all the same.

  “Do you have Viking ancestry?” I asked, deflecting his question.

  He nodded, his face lighting up for the first time. “I do. My great grandfather was born and raised in Denmark. He claimed that he descended from the gods. I did my research, and alas, he was poorly educated in that regard. However, he was the descendant of a king.”

  A smile crossed my lips. It had been a long time since I had spoken to someone who loved Viking history. Most British people were a little less than interested considering we had ransacked their country many moons ago.

  “Ah, what king? I might have known him.” My words were truth, I had known many kings back in the day of ancient Scandinavia. Martin wouldn’t know that of course, he would think I was a historian like himself.

  “Christian II.” Martin’s smug expression was surpassed by Jack’s bored sigh.

  If I had been alone with the man, I would have gone into detail about his ancestry. I remembered when the King had reigned in Denmark mainly. I had been fighting my own war by then. In fact, if I remembered correctly, I was in Francia.

  “Interesting. I do know quite a bit about the history. Legend has it I am actually descended from the gods.” I couldn’t help my brash claim.

  Martin wouldn’t have a clue what I was speaking about. It had been such a long time since I had been able to make such a bold statement. And, yet, it didn’t feel as satisfying as I had thought it might.

  “You are? Well, sir, we must sit down and discuss that tit-bit! I would love to find out about your heritage.” Martin downed his whiskey, pouring another one instantly as he scrutinised my face.

  Maybe I had said too much already. The man was obviously obsessed with runes. In fact, maybe he had something to do with the Hagalaz cult.

  “Your daughter,” Jack said, swiping the bottle off the table to refill his glass. “Please, tell us what happened.”

  Martin became sombre as he looked over our heads to the wall behind. I resisted the urge to look and see if there were any more runes hidden in the artwork or the walls.

  “My daughter was twenty when she met her boyfriend. He’s a guitarist in a band, she was a budding artist. They had that crazy type of love, soon getting caught up in drugs and partying. One day, she told me that he had pledged his soul to an evil spirit. I laughed, not believing in her dramatics. How wrong I was.”

  My sharp look at Jack made him shut his mouth before he spoke. The last thing we needed was to let on how much we knew about the world Martin’s daughter was involved in. In fact, it sounded suspiciously like a certain Fallen One who had influenced the couple.

  “Do you happen to know the name of the woman in the painting downstairs?” I asked him.

  Shaking his head, he frowned, distracted by my sudden change in subject. “No.” He sighed heavily. “My daughter told me that she was the most powerful woman in the city. When I asked her how, she wouldn’t tell me. To be honest, she rarely spoke. Always moody and…sullen.”

  “Ain’t all artists like that? That’s what gives them inspiration, ain’t it?”

  Martin smiled at my friend. “Yes, true. But, my daughter…she changed…one minute she was a beautiful happy artist, the next…I don’t know, something dark took hold of her.”

  My Adam’s apple bobbed as I swallowed. Was Martin’s daughter a victim of a Dark Crawler? Did she become a host after she had got involved with the Fallen One? There were still too many questions about everything that surrounded my enemy. Did the Hagalaz group know anything about one of the most evil spirits on the planet?

  “Is her boyfriend still alive?” Jack asked, leaning his arms on his knees.

  Martin rubbed a hand over his face, his fingers digging into his scars as they came into contact with his cheeks.

  “Yes, he plays private gigs mainly. Actually, my secretary knows him quite well and told me he was playing for someone tonight. A high powered woman, apparently. Very exclusive. He’ll get a huge fee for that, I’m sure.”

  Jack looked at me, his eyebrows raised. He knew what I was thinking. Was the woman in the painting the high powered lady that Martin talked about? Maybe we could gate crash the party, just to see.

  “I know this is an odd request, but to help you, I would need to speak to your daughter’s boyfriend. Could you ask your secretary to come in so we can find out where the gig is tonight?” Jack tugged on the sleeves of his black shirt. The colour of his outfit made his mousey hair an
d blue eyes stand out.

  Martin nodded and got up from his seat to wander over to his desk. I studied the painting on the opposite wall to me. If the gallery owner was so innocent, why did he have so many ancient runes…mainly runes of protection…all over his office?

  I tuned him out as he requested his secretary to join us. The man was involved with something other than an interest in history. He had to be.

  The door opened, drawing my attention away from the painting of an angel with black wings, bent over a man who grasped a wooden made version of my tattoo, Eihwaz.

  “Can I help you, sir?” the pretty young woman asked.

  I turned to her in my seat, my eyes stretching when my gaze traced the tightness of muscles on her legs. The tone of her figure was strong and powerful. Her waist length hair was a temptation all in itself. My fingers itched to wrap around the strands and tug her head so far back, she would find it hard to breathe.

  “Yes, these gentlemen are investigating something for me. They need to speak to Andrew about a few things. Could you tell them where he’s performing tonight please?”

  Martin came over to the woman, his shoulders pulled high and his arms relaxed by his side. Jack jumped up from his seat and moved to her, almost tripping over himself to get there.

  “I…remember you,” he said, a grin spreading on his cheeky face.

  The woman’s face flashed red as she cleared her throat daintily. “Hello, Jack.”

  No one could forget Jack once they had been within his dirty grasp. He had a way of testing limits, mostly sexual. And, if she had been caught by him, she would probably remember every little detail about their night.

  “I need your help. Just the small detail of where the band is playing tonight.” He bent over her hand, kissing the knuckles.

  A small shudder ran over her body. Martin wouldn’t have noticed it, but I had been around humans for so very long, I could see every nuance in their stance. Was that a good or bad reaction to Jack? I hoped for our sake, he had shown her a good time.

  “Of course, I’ll write the address down for you.”

  My phone beeped loudly, drawing attention to me. The woman’s eyes grew wide as I unfolded myself out of the chair and bowed my head to her. She automatically stepped forward, licking her lips as she waited for an introduction.

  “This is my friend Trygger, he’s from Scandinavia,” Jack said, scowling at me in warning.

  Apparently, Jack had enjoyed the pretty woman’s company too much to share. That was a pity, I could do with releasing some tension before I faced the Fallen One. My heart pounded as the idea ran through me. I could feel it, the closeness. Not physically, like when Thor’s thunder warned me. But, instinctually.

  “Trygger is an interesting name. Are you coming to the gig tonight?” Her interest in me could pay off.

  Jack linked arms with her, guiding her to Martin’s desk. “He is. Maybe we’ll meet you there. If you could write down the address like a good girl, we can go and get ready…for you.”

  Glancing at Martin, I clocked the clench of his hands as the young woman used his pad to write on. Was he protective of her or jealous of the attention she showed us?

  Remembering that I had received a text on my phone, I dug it out my pocket. It was Chloe. I hadn’t even thought of her once since leaving the house. The first message made me click my tongue. Apparently, she had found exactly where the Fallen One lived. Yeah, right, as if she would have found my enemy that quickly. After all the years I had tracked her. Although, to be fair, finally having a face to the energy helped a huge amount.

  My smile quickly changed to a frown when the second text listed an address. Moving towards Jack, I ran my eyes over the text, memorising the address. My friend was whispering to the woman who now sat at the desk, still writing very slowly.

  “Jack!” I snapped, noticing how tense Martin had become.

  It wasn’t very professional to flirt with Jack’s client’s secretary, no matter how amazingly hot she was. Or, the history they obviously shared.

  “Sorry,” Jack murmured to Martin as he stepped away.

  I leant over the desk to look at the piece of paper, my face getting near to the girl’s. She sucked in her breath when I lifted my gaze to look at her. Our eyes met and the small movement in her throat made me want to move closer and lick the smooth skin there.

  “Thank you,” I said, snatching the paper and looking down at it.

  My lip lifted into my cheek as I moved away, heading towards the door. The address matched the one on my text from Chloe. Apparently my novice did have skills I hadn’t been aware of. And, it looked like tonight, I would finally be able to send another soul back to Freya.

  14

  Preparing For The Fallen One

  “HOW DID YOU do it?” I demanded as I grabbed my sword from the wall in my magic room.

  Kissing the handle, I grinned to myself as I tucked it into my scabbard. It had been a hundred years since I had last killed a Fallen One, I had missed my blade.

  Chloe followed behind me, just like Rusty followed her. She watched me as I patted the sword and turned to leave.

  “I scanned that picture you drew onto the computer. Using your credit card, the one that was sitting on the desk, I purchased a top graphic making software that allowed me to make the image 3D.”

  I glanced over my shoulder, my back going stiff. She used my credit card without asking? Wow, it seemed I had a dependent who would be happy to spend my money.

  Sighing, I ran a hand over my hair, reaching for the elastic that held it away from my face. Pulling my hair out, I gestured for Chloe to follow me.

  “Then, when you sent me that picture of the painting, I crossed referenced it to change anything I didn’t quite have right. When it was perfect, I ran it through social media databases…and got a hit.”

  “A hit?”

  We walked through the gym before skipping down the stairs. Chloe stayed close to my heels, her hands wringing together in front of her. Moving to the kitchen area, I pulled open a drawer to reveal several strands of ribbons. All dark colours, they sat in a row. Picking up a black one, I gathered my hair, ready to tie it.

  A small hand snatched the ribbon from me before I could get it around the thickness of my hair.

  “Let me do it. Yes, a hit,” she said, tugging on my hair to smooth it out. “A match to a photo of the person I was searching for. Turned out, our Fallen One had quite a social media presence. Now, that may have been down to the host, rather than the spirit. The photos were a bit older.”

  When the bow was tied, Chloe stepped back and absently patted my shoulder. I felt the back of my head, checking that the bow was exactly how I liked it. Apparently, Chloe knew exactly how to tie it. Looking down at my outfit, I straightened my back and brushed the leather of my top. The matching trousers were made for me a hundred years ago by an old man in Germany. The last pair had got blood all over them, making them useless.

  My arms were bare as I reached for the sword at my side. I would have to use magic to hide the weapon. There would be a ridiculously slim chance that they would let me in with a blade.

  “I’ve never seen those boots before,” Chloe mentioned as I tapped the sword twice, invoking the invisibility spell my old friend had placed over it. “Wow, you’ve hidden it!”

  My boots were steel capped, a great invention by modern day standards. It had always hurt my feet when I was in battle with a Fallen One. They knew my footwear had always been weak, like most men, so they took advantage of that. It would be interesting to see how a female would fight. It had been hundreds of years since I had last fought one.

  A knock sounded at the front door. “Okay, I’ll see you later.”

  “What?” Chloe’s shrill response made me freeze. “I’m coming with you!”

  Turning slowly, I raised my eyebrows when she looked down at herself and squeaked. Rushing towards the stairs, she took them two at a time.

  “You’re not coming, Chloe,�
� I shouted, going to the door to let Jack in.

  “Oh, yes I am!”

  Her reply was muffled as she went into her room. Jack sauntered in, his eyes tracing my outfit.

  “Is it fancy dress today, mate? I mean, medieval style suits you, sir, but…I think you may raise an eyebrow or two. And, you’ll probably raise a male or two…if you get my meaning.”

  My contact was on form already. He waltzed up to me, gingerly reaching out to rub the leather. Knocking his hand away, I studied his choice of outfit.

  “You can talk. What are those?”

  Jack wore white jeans tighter than I had ever seen. A long silk shirt with a black and white pattern covered up his lower region, which was a relief. And, on his head, was a pair of bright orange sunglasses. Even though it was dark outside.

  “This is fashion, darling, you wouldn’t know it if you were stripped naked and bloody well fed it, would you?”

  Shaking my head, I nodded towards the door, putting a finger to my lips to tell him to keep quiet.

  “You’re not leaving her here, are you? After she found the woman? How did she do that?”

  “No, he’s not leaving me here,” Chloe shouted from the top of the stairs.

  Grimacing, I watched as she almost stumbled back down them. Her legs were encased in black leather trousers. A lace skirt covered them, slits right up the sides to the waistband.

  “Now that is fashion!” Jack declared as Chloe fumbled her way to the sofa, only to sit down to put her ankle boots on.

  Her top was corseted, mainly black with a hint of red ribbon to tie it with. A leather coat had been in her hands when she had come down the stairs. I couldn’t help looking between me and her.

  “Aw, you’re matching,” Jack said, grunting when I punched his arm, a little harder than I probably should have.

  “I can’t look after you tonight.” I went over to Chloe as she stood and tugged her jacket on.

  Her dark blonde hair was messy, but for once, it went with what she wore. A dark ring of black lined her eyelids and her lips were painted bright red.