by Jane Godman
Ignoring the elevators, Wilder ran up the two stairs to Jenny’s floor, panic rather than exertion making his breathing come harder. When he got into her room, he called out her name but wasn’t surprised to be greeted by silence. She hadn’t been close by when she cried out to him just now. By the long-range nature of the cry, he guessed she wasn’t even in the building. Her cell phone lay on the bedside table, plugged into its charger, and there were several unopened bags, indicating that she had put her threat to go shopping into practice. There was no sign of where she had gone. All he knew was what his gut was telling him. Jenny was in danger. Grave danger.
His fingers felt numb and refused to work properly as he pulled his own cell phone out of his pocket. “Samson?” There was a mumbled curse in response as if Samson was waking reluctantly from a deep sleep. “Get some clothes on and get the others together. I need you in Jenny’s room. Now.”
The urgency in his voice must have done the trick. Within minutes, the whole brotherhood was assembled inside Jenny’s hotel room.
“What makes you think she hasn’t gone to do more shopping?” Samson pointed to the packages on the chair.
“She called out to me.” Wilder pressed a finger to his temple. “Here. But she wasn’t close enough for me to hear what she said.” He drew a breath. “She sounded . . . I can’t explain it. I want to say scared, but I’m not sure that was it. The message was urgent, that much I do know.”
“Okay, give me a minute to get her scent.” Samson prowled around the room. “She wasn’t scared when she was in here.”
“Can you tell what her mood was?” Was Samson that good? Wilder shook the thought away. He knew his friend. Samson didn’t make idle boasts. He was the best.
It seemed he was. “I’d say troubled. Maybe confused. I can try and follow her scent.”
Wilder clenched his fists at his sides. If she was troubled, he should have been with her. Damn it all to hell. If she was confused, he was the cause. “Let’s go.”
They followed the big Arctic out of the room. “She didn’t take the elevator, which is good. That’s where we could have lost her straightaway.” Samson led them down the stairs, through the hotel foyer, and out into the street.
Wilder began to question whether even such a sensitive nose as Samson’s could follow a scent in such an overpoweringly busy environment. This city was sensory overload. Yet Samson unerringly led them across to the park. He thought of their first night together in Helsinki. A park made sense. Jenny would seek out an open space in a built-up environment. Wilder allowed himself a surge of optimism.
“She came this way.” Samson nodded. “It’s faint, but her trail is still here.” He traversed a huge lawn, walking determinedly to the far end, then he paused, a frown darkening his features. “Something changed right about here. I can sense panic, and then she did get scared. Real scared. I can smell her fear.”
Wilder pointed to the grass. There were gouges in the otherwise smooth surface of the lawn. “It looks like something—or someone—has been dragged a short distance.”
“Jenny?” Gunnar’s mouth was grim, his voice incredulous. “Someone grabbed her in broad daylight?”
“There’s more.” Samson sniffed the air. “There was another werewolf here. And not just any werewolf. We’re all alphas, but the scent given off by this one makes all of us, even as a group, smell like a pack of feeble newborn cubs.”
“Van Marsh.” Wilder spat the name out like it was poison. His heart took on a new rhythm at the thought of Jenny in that bastard’s hands.
“I don’t think there can be any doubt.” Sebastian walked a few feet away, stooped, and picked up a silk scarf that lay on the grass. He came back to them. “I watched footage of Van Marsh’s interviews, remember? He was wearing one just like this in Washington last week.”
Samson took the scarf from him and sniffed it. “This smells of the mega-wolf.” He turned to Wilder, his expression regretful. “But it also has Jenny’s scent on it.”
Chapter Twelve
Jenny was disorientated, unable to figure out her surroundings because of the total darkness. They hadn’t tied her up, which was good. Or bad. Maybe they didn’t tie me up because they didn’t need to. They know I can’t escape. As she felt her way around the narrow room in which she was confined, she couldn’t find any way out other than a locked door. It was as she suspected. Bad.
It was no good cursing the bad luck that had brought her face-to-face with Van Marsh. She’d wasted enough time on that already. It had happened. Now she needed to get out of this place and back to Wilder. The brotherhood needed her.
Seven and only seven. The bravest and strongest. Gunnar can’t be number seven in my place. He wasn’t there when Angrboda granted us the ability to shift away from the midnight sun. And, even if he could, he’s not strong enough. I’ve let them down. She choked back the little sob that rose in her throat. It’s not over yet. You don’t have time for crying.
Jenny didn’t know what had alerted Van Marsh to the fact that she was a danger to him. But, as soon as he’d raised his shades and looked into her eyes, he knew. Maybe he’d seen her shock, sensed something in her manner. Scented her hatred. Read her mind. Whatever it was, as they gazed at each other across those couple of feet of grass, the most dangerous werewolf the world had ever known had drawn his lips back in a snarl. Poised for flight, Jenny hadn’t been fast enough. Had barely seen the movement coming. One second Van Marsh was standing perfectly still and upright, the next he had hurled himself through the air toward her, catching her off balance.
Arms flailing, she had tried to push him away, only succeeding in grabbing his expensive scarf. There wasn’t even time to scream. His hand seemed huge as it covered her mouth and nose, muffling any sounds she could make. Jenny had struggled in his hold, her feet digging into the grass before she was hauled into his arms. His scarf came loose and she let it go. Blood roared in her ears as she struggled for breath. Above the sound, she heard Van Marsh talking to a few concerned onlookers.
“Fainted. It happens all the time. Usually at my rallies. Will you be coming tomorrow? You will? See you there.”
Then everything went black. She had regained consciousness in a moving vehicle with some sort of blanket over her head. They drove for about twenty minutes before she was hustled into this building, down a short flight of stairs, and pushed into this room. The door was slammed and locked behind her. Jenny had no way of measuring the passage of time, but it felt like she had been here a very long time.
Her muscles were cramped and aching; she was tired, hungry, and incredibly thirsty. Her keen senses were telling her nothing about this place. There was no noise apart from a hum of traffic. The air smelled of disuse. Dust and something stale, like rotten apples, assailed her sensitive nostrils. She had been forced to relieve her bladder, crouching in the darkness, grimacing at the indignity, and now her own scent masked any others.
Footsteps sounded outside the door and she scrambled from her sitting position to her feet, placing her back against the wall. The door opened inward and a light, the switch to which was located outside the door, was flicked on. Jenny flinched, the sudden brightness in contrast to the dark hurting her eyes. Van Marsh, elegant as ever, stepped into the room, closing the door behind him and leaning his shoulders against it.
“Who are you?”
Jenny raised a hand, shielding her eyes against the glare from the single bulb. She had been right. It was a small square room. Probably below street level and probably a storage room leading off a larger basement. There were marks where shelves had once lined the walls of the room. Something told her they were beneath a shop, but she didn’t know why she sensed that. With a flicker of interest, she noticed a narrow strip of wood just below ceiling height. A boarded-over window? If it was, someone had done a good job. In the darkness, she hadn’t been able to see even a sliver of light through it.
She forced her attention back to Van Marsh. “Pardon?”
&
nbsp; “You heard me.”
“Uh, right. My name is Jenny Piper.” She decided faking disorientation and confusion would be her best approach. Maybe with a dash of stupidity for good measure.
“And you are an Arctic werewolf.”
She hung her head. “I don’t like to talk about that.”
He snorted. “Nice try. Tell me about the Brotherhood of the Midnight Sun.”
“The what?” Jenny widened her eyes. “Look, I don’t know why you brought me here, but can I go now?”
“Tell me.” He folded his arms across his chest. Jenny wasn’t sure Van Marsh’s devoted followers would be quite so entranced if they could see this menacing look.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Can I at least get a drink of water?”
“Shall I tell you what I think, Miss Piper?” Jenny had a feeling she was going to hear it whether she agreed or not. “I think you are here with the legendary Brotherhood of the Midnight Sun. I think you and your fellow Arctic werewolves dare to believe you can stop me. Although how you would do that without being able to shift will be interesting.”
“Stop you? What are you going to do?” She couldn’t quite believe she was standing here, having this conversation with the deadliest of the ancient Norse gods in what appeared to be the disused basement of a derelict building. And it was somewhere in New York, a city she had believed she would never visit because its climate was too mild to suit her Arctic constitution. Why did I leave my phone behind? I could at least have gotten a selfie of me with Fenrir for my end-of-the-world social media posts. Choking back the hysterical thought, she forced herself to focus.
Van Marsh shrugged. “I suspect you already know exactly what my plans are. Since you are going to die here anyway, I can’t see what harm it will do to provide confirmation.” With a shiver, Jenny realized he was enjoying himself. His ego was so enormous, he would take any audience, even a captive witness of one. “I intend to finally carry out the task I was born for. I am going to destroy this puny world that Odin created for his own amusement.”
“Why?” Jenny hoped he didn’t hear the wobble in her voice.
Van Marsh seemed surprised at the question. Possibly it was one he had never stopped to consider. “Because I swore I would. Because the gods had me chained.” Something gleamed in the green-gold depths of his eyes. Something that made Jenny’s blood run as cold as the waters of an ice floe. “Because I want to.”
“Why are you playing with the human race this time? Making them into your slaves?” As she asked the question, Jenny wanted to take it back. Don’t give him ideas that might make him change his mind. At least this way we have some time.
Van Marsh smiled. Even though she knew what he was, it was still a charming expression. “This way is so much more fun.” Jenny remembered what Madden had said about Van Marsh’s father, the infamous trickster god, Loki. Fun. If that was his way of referring to the destruction of a whole planet, what chance did she have of persuading him to keep her alive?
“By the way, your son is dead.” She said it bluntly, trying to provoke an emotional response from him.
He stared at her blankly for a moment. “Can you be more specific? I have so many children.”
Jenny blinked at him. She was telling him one of them was dead. Surely he must feel something at that news? Instead, he was regarding her with an expression of polite interest and asking her to narrow it down. “I’m talking about Santin.”
“Oh, him. Yes, that was bound to happen sooner or later. My money was always on sooner. Such a hothead.” He smiled courteously, adding to the surrealism of the situation. This was the god of destruction, for heaven’s sake, and he was behaving like they were guests at a wedding making polite chitchat. “Well, this has been nice, but I must go. I have a rally to prepare for. And, since I’m sure your friends will make a guest appearance, this one is likely to prove more interesting than most. Just one thing”—the polite veneer dropped and the feral wolf showed through—“the one who calls himself Gunnar these days, is he with you?”
Jenny wasn’t sure how to answer that. “The one who calls himself Gunnar”? “These days”? She remained silent and Van Marsh gave a short laugh before making a move to go.
“How long are you going to leave me here?” Jenny hated the rising note of panic in her voice.
Van Marsh’s smile deepened. “Forever, of course.” The door closed and the light went out. As the key grated in the lock, Jenny fought back the tears of panic that threatened to rise up and choke her.
* * *
“If he harms a hair on Jenny’s head, I’ll take his entrails, turn them into a noose, and hang him with them.” Samson was pacing up and down Gunnar’s hotel room.
“That’s the tenth threat you’ve made involving Van Marsh’s body parts in the last five minutes. We get the picture.” Gunnar jerked his head toward the window to where Wilder stood. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, his shoulders were hunched, and his head was bowed. He hadn’t moved or spoken since they walked into the room. Although he appeared to be looking out at the scene beyond the window, his eyes weren’t registering anything of what they saw.
“Oh, I see. Sorry.” Samson grimaced.
The whole team had trooped back to the hotel when, having followed Jenny’s scent out of the park, Samson had lost the trail as soon as they reached the road. “Bastard must have gotten her into a car,” he had muttered, kicking the curb in frustration.
“Okay, we know Van Marsh is here in New York. The rally is tomorrow. Wilder and I need to finalize our plans in case we have to storm the stage and take him there. In the meantime, I need the rest of you to get out and start looking for him now. This is a huge city, but he’s a celebrity. Hiding won’t be easy. Plus, his scent is so powerful any one of us, not just Samson, should be able to pick up on it. Try and find where he has taken Jenny.”
The five men, glad of something to do, dashed out of the room.
“She’s out there somewhere.” Wilder nodded out of the window. “He has her in his power and there’s fuck all I can do to help her.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t even know if she’s still alive.”
“Don’t torture yourself.”
Wilder turned to face Gunnar. “She has to be alive. If not . . .” He couldn’t finish the sentence, or the thought. This is a fine fucking time to find out I do want forever. Just as it might be snatched away from me.
“Jenny is strong. She’s one of us. Trust her, Wilder.”
He nodded. “What’s the plan?”
“Van Marsh’s rallies are surprisingly short, typically lasting about an hour. Compared to other cult leaders, that’s hardly worth turning up for. But we know, of course, that Van Marsh’s brainwashing only requires people to show up, they don’t need to stay and undergo a lengthy indoctrination. He doesn’t have any sort of warm-up act. It’s straight to the main event. Van Marsh comes on stage and talks for the whole of that hour.”
“What does security look like?” Wilder’s eyes were constantly drawn to the window. I let you down, Jenny. If I’d been with you, this wouldn’t have happened.
“Tight, but not oppressive.” Gunnar pulled his laptop over and switched it on. “Van Marsh probably feels that on his own he would be more than a match for any threat that might come his way. He doesn’t have much backup, and those bodyguards he does have are human, not wolf. He has an entourage, but they tend to be hangers-on and followers rather than muscle. I think I can get our truck up close to the stage.”
“Can we take him”—Wilder swallowed hard—“if we don’t have Jenny?”
Gunnar’s eyes reflected his own pain right back at him. “The brotherhood will be weakened without her, but I don’t know how much.”
There was only one way to find out. Moving away from the window, Wilder took the seat next to Gunnar and nodded at the laptop screen. “Show me.”
Gunnar drew up an image of the Great Lawn where they had been standing ea
rlier. Wilder felt his stomach muscles tighten as rage threatened to overwhelm him once more. He had to overcome it. Force it to take a backseat and make it work for him instead of allowing it to cloud his judgment. If we don’t find her before we get to Van Marsh, it will be my personal pleasure to get my hands around his throat and choke her whereabouts out of his filthy mouth. Aware that he was starting to sound a lot like Samson, Wilder turned his attention back to what Gunnar was saying.
“The area where he took Jenny is right about where his stage will be. It won’t be anything fancy. The authorities won’t allow it. They were reluctant to authorize this rally at all, remember? They will not give permission for anything that causes damage to the park environment.” Gunnar circled the main lawn with his fingertip. “The crowd will be here, of course.”
“Police?”
“With any gathering of this size, there will have to be a police presence. But Van Marsh’s rallies are conspicuous for their peaceful nature. That’s widely reported in the press. Going along to hear Van Marsh speak is like a family day out.”
Wilder sank his head into his hands. “A family day out? And we’re going to unleash Fenrir in the middle of this?”
“Not if we can help it.” Gunnar plowed on. “We have to be at the front of the crowd. Van Marsh doesn’t do much of a preamble. He’s pretty much straight into promising his followers the earth, which is a joke since the earth is what he wants to destroy. I reckon ten minutes into his speech, most of the crowd are hooked.” Gunnar switched to a video of one of Van Marsh’s rallies. The camera was focused on the audience, while Van Marsh’s soft, persuasive voice could be heard in the background. Every face was raised in adoration, eyes shone, tears streamed down the cheeks of some, hands were clasped in prayerful aspect to chests. Wilder felt sick, angry bile rising in his gullet. “Fifteen minutes and we go.”
“We just jump up there onto the stage and grab him?”
“Do you have any better ideas?”
