Rune King's Daughter

by Amelia Wilson

  “Hi, boss!” she chirped, well aware that with his Draugr hearing he was already party to the conversation. “Yeah, Paris. And in Paris, guess what?”

  He sighed. “Elke, spit it out before I shake you.”

  She giggled. “That might actually be fun.”

  “Elke…”

  “All right, all right. Paris, you might remember, is split between two Draugr groups. The Draugr chief of east Paris didn’t come to Uppsala. In fact, he stayed there and cemented his holdings by taking the territory of the other Draugr chieftain in west Paris, who did go, and who’s still here in Sweden. He’s also being really chummy lately with a coven of witches based in Bordeaux.”

  “Chummy in what way?” he asked.

  “Well…he’s been acting as their muscle under a kind of Mafia-style agreement.”

  Erik shook his head. “The hell he is. Get me all the information you can about those Draugr in Paris and get it to me on my desk in the morning, and about the witches in Bordeaux. And I want to know where in Paris Mia was seen.”

  “You got it, boss.”

  He gently pulled the phone out of Nika’s hand and spoke into it. “And stop calling tonight unless it’s a complete emergency.”

  His assistant giggled again. “Sure thing. You two have fun, now!”

  He ended the call and put the phone aside. Nika leaned forward and kissed him, then got under the covers and lay down with her back against his side.

  “Good night, sweetheart,” she said, unable to keep the grin out of her tone.

  She could sense his confusion in the silence, but finally he said, “Good night.” He turned out his bedside table light and rolled over until they were lying back to back. She smiled and leaned into his warmth, then settled down to sleep.

  Chapter Six

  Dominic hauled himself onto his hands and knees, feeling the silver burning in his gut. It should have killed him. He didn’t know why he was still alive. He whimpered in pain, the sound still wolf-like even though his form was human. He squeezed his eyes shut, hard.

  The sound of footsteps approached, and he tried to move away from the door, but his hand slipped in the pool of blood beneath him and he fell onto his side. He lay there, gasping, staring at the entry to the little rock chamber.

  A human man in a muddy overcoat with shaggy, unkempt hair appeared in the doorway. He looked down on the felled Ulfen with a kind smile, even though he shouldn’t have been able to see him in the utter darkness.

  “Well,” he said, his voice thickly accented. “I came expecting to find a runaway Valtaeigr and I find a wounded wolf instead.”

  Dominic tried to speak, but he couldn’t make the sound come out. The man came closer and crouched beside him.

  “That’s a bad wound,” he said conversationally. “I’ll bet it feels as awful as it looks.”

  The Ulfen whined and tried to scoot away from him, but the man out a hand on his shoulder and held him tight. The heat of magical power shot into him from the stranger, and he was completely paralyzed.

  “I don’t know how much a hurt Ulfen is like a hurt animal, but I can’t have you biting me while I try to help you, can I?” The man had a Russian accent, and his scent was ruddy and rich, like blood in black soil. He rolled Dominic onto his back and pulled a black-handled knife out of his pocket. The ritual blade glowed with powerful magic. “This will only hurt for a minute. I’m sorry I can’t make it not hurt at all.”

  He pulled Dominic’s shirt up and his jeans down to expose the bullet entry wound. With a quick, almost apologetic smile, he cut into him and reached his blunt fingers inside through the incision. The Ulfen tried to howl in pain, but the paralysis extended to his voice, and he was forced to stay silent. After an eternity of probing, the man finally pulled out the bullet and tucked it into a pocket.

  “There,” he said. “Good as new. Almost.”

  He bent and lifted Dominic onto his shoulders as if the Ulfen was weightless, and he carried him out of the Catacombs.

  ***

  The car pulled through a guarded gate and into a private estate on the outskirts of Paris. As soon as the gates were locked up again behind the vehicle, the one calling himself Derek materialized on the seat beside her.

  He was shorter than she would have expected, with chocolate brown hair and equally dark eyes set in a face with skin so pale he seemed to be made of milk. He was in an elegant suit with a black wool overcoat covering it, but he seemed to have no difficulty with the heat. Now that his magical concealment was dismissed, she could tell that he was an old Draugr, secure in his power.

  “Welcome to my home,” he said with a pleasant smile.

  She glowered at him. “Am I a prisoner?”

  “Not yet.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He smiled more broadly. “Your ultimate fate depends greatly upon the choices that you make, and the reactions of your father.”

  “Did he send you?”

  “Quite the contrary. This is going to be a huge surprise for him.” The car stopped, and he exited, offering her his hand to help her out. She took it reluctantly.

  Derek led her up the front steps and into a palatial mansion that was clearly centuries old. A human woman met him at the door and collected his coat, and another asked Mia for hers. She shook her head and kept it, and the woman simply walked away.

  He took her to a sitting room filled with antique furniture and exquisite art. She sat in a wingback chair while he made himself comfortable on a loveseat facing her.

  “I am Derek Dupin, the chieftain of the Paris band. Have you heard of me?”

  “Should I have?”

  He smiled. “Perhaps not. But soon everyone will know who I am.” He crossed his legs and sat back, his arms across the back of the loveseat. “Now that your father has so helpfully destroyed all of the First, I am now the second oldest vampire in existence. I will not bow to him.”

  Mia snorted. “He’ll make you.”

  “No,” he said with a shake of his dark head. “Not if I have you at my side.”

  She narrowed her eyes. This was beginning to sound a great deal like the arrangement she had endured with Bjorn. “At your side in what way?”

  “As his daughter, you are his heir and princess of the Draugr kingdom. You are also the last surviving Dark Sister, and therefore the strongest link to the powers of Hel. I am proposing an alliance, one that will benefit us both.”

  “What sort of an alliance?”

  “A marriage of convenience,” he said with a shrug, as if he were discussing a coffee date. “If we wed, we will be the heirs to his kingdom, and if anything unfortunate should happen to him, we will be in a position to take it all. All of the power. All of the territory. All of the money. And we will be able to resume making faery dreyri and reaping the financial benefits of a population addicted to what only we can provide.”

  “What makes you think he won’t just kill you when you make your demands?” she asked. “I assume you’re going to make demands.”

  Derek smiled. “He wants to be king, doesn’t he? Part of kingship is diplomacy. I have more experience in that field than the Huntsman does. I can work him into a position where we will have everything we want.”

  She was not convinced. “And what do I get out of this?”

  He was prepared with an answer. “An end to running. All of the power you can take. Respect due to you for your particular skill set. Protection from the Huntsman and his Rune Master.”

  He finished speaking and waited for her to respond. She stared at him, their eyes locked, for a long time while she ran his suggestions over in her head. Finally, she said, “If I agree to this, there’s one more thing I want.”

  Derek beamed. “Anything for my future bride.”

  “I want the Huntsman’s head on a pig pole.”

  His dark eyes gleamed. “That is a gift I would be happy to deliver.”

  Mia considered for a moment longer, then smiled tightly. “You have a deal.�
��

  ***

  Nika slept fitfully. In her unquiet dreams, she saw Mia and a Draugr she did not know standing on a battlefield, facing Erik. The two Draugr were in ancient armor, swords in their hands. Nika herself stood at Erik’s side, her rune magic tingling in her hands. Mia had magic of her own prepared.

  The faceoff took place in an empty field beneath dark skies heavy with thunderclouds. The lightning added power to their magic, and a soaking rain slicked the ground. Erik and the Draugr fought, and Mia concentrated her magic on her father, weakening him. Nika could not get her magic to work. She was forced to sit by helplessly while her lover was hacked to bits, dying before her eyes.

  She jolted awake and reached for him, but his place in the bed was empty. She sat up, alarmed. “Erik?”

  There was no answer, so she tried again through their Chosen bond.

  Erik?

  In the study, he responded.

  She slipped from the bed and padded through the house to where he sat in the dark, his face ghostly in the glow from his laptop’s screen. “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Trying to get things in order with the club and everything else.” He ran a hand over his face. “This is not my strong suit.”

  She went to him and embraced him, her arms tight around his neck. He held her wrists gently in his hands and looked up at her.

  “Are you all right?”

  Nika sighed. “I had a horrible nightmare.”

  He pulled her onto his lap, and she put her arm around his shoulders, happy to be there. He circled her waist with his arms and said, “It was only a dream. Whatever it was, it didn’t happen, and we’re as safe and sound as we’ve ever been.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.” She sighed and leaned her head against his, looking at the spreadsheet on his computer. “These books are going to be the death of you. Why don’t we just hire an accountant?”

  “Do you think we’ll be able to find one who’ll keep quiet about all of our business and who won’t get freaked out by what we are?”

  “Probably. Money helps some people accept anything and keep any secret. We have how many Draugr, though? Surely one of them is a CPA.”

  He smiled. “I’ll tell you what. If you can find a Draugr accountant, I will hire him or her on the spot. Deal?”

  “Deal.” She patted his shoulder. “Anything is better than seeing you wrestle with numbers like this.”

  Erik shrugged. “It’s not as if I ever went to school. It’s a miracle I can understand these things as well as I can.” He was quiet for a moment, then he asked, “Who did you see in your dream?”

  “Mia,” she said. “You and me. A Draugr man I’ve never seen before. It was very dark and rainy and you were fighting and... I couldn’t get my magic to work. I couldn’t help you. You...you died.”

  “Ugh.” He kissed her. “It was only a dream. Here I am, as alive as I was the day you met me, and I doubt your magic will ever fail you in real life.”

  “Don’t the Norse believe in dreams?” she asked.

  “We did. And sometimes I still do. If it concerns you, call Ingrid and have her interpret it for you. She’s a vala of many talents.”

  Vala was the ancient Norse word for “wise woman,” and his mother was certainly that. She had taught Nika about rune magic and about what it meant to be Valtaeigr. She had also proven to be a powerful ally against their foes.

  “I’ll call her in the morning.”

  “Good idea.” He reached out and closed the laptop. “Enough of this. Let’s go back to bed, shall we?”

  She kissed him, and she longed for more, but if she gave in to her own urges tonight, it would mean she’d have to start her test all over again, and she didn’t want to do that. The sooner this test was over, the happier she’d be - for a number of reasons.

  Erik could tell that she was thinking, and the way he was looking at her, she worried that her thoughts had been showing on her face. She couldn’t let him know that he was being tested.

  “Chosen?” he asked, his voice gentle but guarded. “Is something troubling you?”

  “Just the dream,” she lied. She got up off of his lap and took his hands in hers. “I’m just tired and I’d like to go to sleep.”

  He rose and put his arm around her. “Then sleep you shall.”

  Together, they walked to the bedroom and went back to bed. They slid under the covers and she curled up under his arm, her head on his chest, her hand on his stomach. He kissed her hairline and ran his hand along her arm, stroking her soft skin from shoulder to elbow. His heartbeat was strong in her ear, the drum beat of his life and his love. She kissed his chest.

  He put his arms around her and pulled her closer, moving her easily with his steady strength. She ended up lying on top of him, her belly against his hips. He looked at her with adoration, and she kissed him deeply.

  His body responded to the touch, and she could feel him hardening against her. She longed to touch him, to feel him inside of her, but she reminded herself of the things he had done in his mortal days and while under Mia’s control. She pushed away and put some space between them.

  He looked at her in confusion, little lines appearing between his eyebrows. “Nika, what is it?”

  “I’m just tired, that’s all.” She pulled further away and lay down without touching him. “I just want to sleep.”

  He took a deep breath and pressed his hands against his face. “All right,” he said at last. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” she said, smiling, pleased that he was taking her rejection so well. She cuddled into her pillow, facing him. “Good night, Erik.”

  He arranged his pillow and sighed. “Good night.”

  It took hours for both of them to fall asleep.

  Chapter Seven

  The man took Dominic through ley lines, traveling in an unreal dream state between the physical and the imaginary. The Ulfen still paralyzed and in pain, wished that he could close his eyes against the swirling phantasms that played around them as they moved. There was no such relief for him, however, and he did his best to hold on to his mind.

  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.