"Victoria," the voice in the mist called to her, louder and edged with desperation.
Following the sound, Victoria approached the vanity mirror with careful steps. A thick layer of ice covered the polished surface. Raising her hand to the edge, she placed her palm on the glass and swiped a diagonal swath from top to bottom.
"Daniel?" Victoria called, peering into the mirror.
"Victoria? I need your help." Daniel's voice emerged clearer and stronger, but he still sounded as if he were shouting over a great distance.
She tensed, preparing to shift. Her wolf rose, muscles flowing beneath her skin, and her eyes cast a golden light. The strange mist glowed. She hesitated, naturally suspicious, expecting a trick or a trap. Even so, concern overcame caution, and she leaned closer.
"Daniel, is that really you?"
Spectral tentacles crawled from the mirror, oozing from the opening, reaching for her like the appendages of a sea creature. There were a dozen or so, wriggling like Medusa's hair, and they varied in size from millimeters to several inches thick. They rooted in a thick mass of blackness at the base.
Heart racing, she took an instinctive step back before stopping, angry with herself for succumbing to fear. Her face set in a determined frown, she advanced again, reclaiming the ground she'd surrendered.
The rotten odor of death and decay permeated the bathroom, upsetting her ever-sensitive stomach. The fresh bout of nausea irritated her further. As a Valkyrie and priestess of Freya, she didn't suffer from nightmares. She caused them.
With a huff, she flicked her fingers. Bones crunched, a pleasurable pain replaced her unease, and her hands shifted to claws. A bloodthirsty anger filled her, the savage desire to inflict pain and destruction upon her enemy.
Victoria reached for one of the tentacles, intending to rip it out by the root, but the tendril evaded her grab and whizzed toward her face. The end split into two wishbone fine filaments, and lanced for her nostrils. Ducking her head, she parried with Vanadium, severing the appendage with the blade. As it fell, the entire thing dissolved to a wispy finger of fog.
Summoning her power, she cast a pulse of divine light from her free hand. The beam sliced through the gloomy fog and struck the necrotic force. The writhing fingers retreated before it and a long, thin window appeared in the mirror, revealing a terrifying abyss on the other side.
Her unwilling mind perceived grotesque things within the blackness, and she shuddered. Nightmare imaginings full of apparitions and abominations that were darker than the darkness. Daniel stood at the center of a point of light on the other side of the horrific void. Even across the great distance, there was no mistaking his dark head or athletic form. Nor the arms that had held her or the voice that had whispered her name.
"I'm here." Daniel reached for her as if seeking to escape the confines of his prison. "Victoria, can you hear me?"
Her heart leapt in her chest and slammed against her breastbone.
"I can see you. Where are you?" Victoria shoved her arm through the reality rift, desperate to save him, but he was just out of reach.
"I've been imprisoned by the vampire who killed me. He calls himself Vildivia. Self-important asshole if you ask me."
Her suspicion hardened. Daniel's back had been turned to the vampire who murdered him. So how could he know? Her breath hitched. "He's short and covered in tribal tattoos?"
"He's tall and covered in skeletal tattoos." He paused, and his lips compressed. She wasn't close enough to see his eyes, but her imagination supplied the wry gleam in their depths. "It's really me."
She swallowed an instinctive apology. She had to ask and Daniel would understand why. As lovers, their trust in one another had been a difficult, drawn out process. A werewolf and a hunter. Their star-crossed romance had seemed doomed from day one, and yet he defied his father to be with her. They had dated for a year before his murder.
"Vildivia has my soul," Daniel's manner contained marked reluctance and distress. He clearly despised his helplessness. "I need help."
"How long have you been trapped?" Horror squeezed the life from her, the crushing coils of a serpent. She couldn't breathe. The knowledge he suffered alone, imprisoned by their enemy, sickened her.
"Since I died." With each passing second, he drew further away from her, his voice fainter. "Listen to me, baby, this is important. I've been trying to escape for months, but I can only leave this prison when he allows it."
With the use of his pet name for her, her doubt regarding his identity vanished. The only man who'd ever dared baby her—and lived—was Daniel. "When you appeared to stop Sawyer and me from killing each other?" she asked. "You're saying Vildivia sent you?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't you ask for help?"
"I tried, but he stopped me somehow."
"He has you under a geas?"
He hesitated. "Is that like a curse?"
"Sort of," she said. "Yes, especially if he compels you to do something against your will."
"He controls what I can say, and he's got to be allowing me to talk to you now. There's no way I suddenly broke through after all these months of failing."
Victoria swallowed, trying to free her constricted throat. She gasped for air as tears streaked her face. "So this is a trap."
Daniel shouted across the vast distance now separating them. "Yes, exactly."
Her heart grew stout; her entire will turned into a razor point of determination. "I'm going to free you, Daniel. I'm going to find that filthy creature and rip him to shreds."
"No!" His volume swelled to convey the command. "Don't come after me alone. Go to my father—"
The rift closed, silencing his voice.
Victoria gulped a breath, instead of inhaling a lungful of water. She choked, limbs flailing. Fluid rushed down her throat, into her nose, and pressed against her eardrums.
She kicked and thrashed her arms, struggling against the horrifying discovery of drowning. Her foot broke the surface and then her hand. Panicked, Victoria shot upright. Gasping for air, she grabbed for the side of the tub. Her frantic motion sloshed a wave onto the tile floor.
It was a nightmare. Not real. She clung to the tub for support, coughing up water from her lungs. Once they were clear, she inhaled blessedly cool air while her mind raced. Had the dream ended?
Gathering her strength, she slithered over the side and landed on her hands and knees atop the drenched bath rug. Panting, she crouched on wet memory foam while her heart raced. She had no idea how to interpret her dream about Daniel's soul being imprisoned. Or was it a vision? She couldn't leave it alone. She wouldn't. She needed answers, and she'd stop at nothing to obtain them.
A sudden, violent wave of nausea sent her bolting to the commode. She lost what little her stomach contained, and then the morning sickness abated enough to allow her to brush her teeth. She cleaned up the water on the floor.
Faint daylight filtered through the frosted bathroom window. A glance at her phone showed it was past seven a.m., causing her another faint shock. How could she have fallen asleep in the tub and spent the entire night there? The prune-like appearance of her skin suggested that was the case. In the master bedroom, she dressed in a short-sleeve blouse and skintight jeans, deciding to wear and enjoy them while she still could. She dried her hair and styled it in a neat French twist.
Victoria padded barefoot through the lakeside Craftsman-style house. The vehicle and property belonged to Arik Koenig, her recently deceased mate. Or, technically, everything now belonged to his son, Logan. Arik had died before they were legally married. The law did not recognize the existence of werewolves, let alone the validity of a mate bond.
Over twelve hours had passed since she'd spoken with Sawyer, but he remained at the forefront of her thoughts. Following their meeting, he had texted her with the address of his hotel, a shabby establishment right on the southern edge of her territory. The courtesy extended surprised her, since it implied a degree of trust she considered impossible b
etween them.
The delicious aroma of fresh-baked bread led Victoria to the kitchen where she found Sylvie Thornton. The Native American woman had a tall, strong stature. Her gray hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail. Victoria's second-in-command, Sylvie held the rank of Beta within the Storm Pack. She also acted as their Skald, the keeper of tradition, and was a devout follower of Freya.
"Good morning! How did you sleep?" Sylvie asked with a smile of greeting. She wore a flour-covered apron, and stood at the center island kneading a ball of dough.
"Okay, I guess. I fell asleep in the tub." Victoria glanced around, looking for other members of the pack. Emptiness echoed through the house. Curious, she extended her awareness through the pack bond and confirmed they were the only ones present. With an effort, she had the ability to reach farther, but it was easier to ask. "Where is everyone?"
"Morena took Sophia and the pups for a run along the lake. Those youngsters are growing like weeds and just bursting with nervous energy." Sylvie paused, pursing her lips. "You look tired."
Victoria took a seat at the kitchen table. "I'm okay, although I'd forgotten how rambunctious ten six-year-olds can be."
Sylvie cast a knowing look and smiled as she lovingly used her friend's nickname. "Victory, you've never known what any six-year-olds are like."
She laughed. "Well, I'm learning."
"Isn't that the truth? Are you hungry?"
"No." She crossed her arms over her uneasy stomach. Despite having lost the contents of her stomach, the queasy sensation in her gut persisted.
"How are you feeling?" Sylvie asked. Soft, nurturing hues suffused her aura.
Her Beta's gentle concern soothed her tension somewhat. Relaxing a little, Victoria mustered a wry smile. "Sick."
Sylvie chuckled, pounding out the dough. "Don't worry, it will pass."
"Yes, but when? I'm six weeks along, but this feels like it's been going on forever."
The smile lines crinkled about the corners of Sylvie's hazel eyes. "I can't wait to have another baby to coddle. Are you sure you're having a girl?"
"So the Norns said." Absently, her hand pressed against her flat stomach. Her emotional turmoil agitated her nausea. The prophecy plagued her with dark thoughts and doubts, and now nightmares troubled her sleep.
At the kitchen island, Sylvie grew still and alert. "That's the first time you've spoken of your visit to the Norns since your return."
Victoria licked her lips, debating how much to reveal. As a Beta, every potential threat to the pack concerned Sylvie. At the same time, Victoria worried about sharing the dark prediction for fear of endangering her friend.
"Is it that bad, sweetie?"
Victoria forced a smile. "Worse."
Sylvie covered the dough with a cloth and then set it aside. Wiping her hands on her apron, she rounded the island to sit at the table across from Victoria. "Have you decided yet whether to meet with Jake Barrett?"
Victoria huffed in exasperation and perched her elbows on the table. "I told Sawyer that I'd consider it because he wouldn't take no for an answer."
"So you've put him off for another day. The man is nothing if not persistent. He'll keep coming until he gets the answer he wants."
She succumbed to an irrepressible grin. "Then I'll school him. Someone needs to teach that man what no means, and I'm just the woman to do it."
Sylvie chuckled and shook her head. "I know you will, but danger is closing in on us from all sides. The vampire who attacked you last night is a threat to us all. This meeting with the Hunter King may be the opportunity we have prayed for to end the awful violence. We have a duty to consider our living children."
The reminder stung her pride, but Victoria depended on her friend's steady temperament to keep her on an even keel. Sylvie told the truth even when Victoria had no desire to hear it.
"Maybe you're right," Victoria said. "Maybe I'm putting pride before the good of the pack."
"It is difficult to maintain a sense of perspective." Sylvie's shoulders relaxed, and she waved a dismissive hand. "You are young, ruled by your heart. I am old, and my heart aches. I long to be reunited with my mate in Valhalla, but until that day comes, I will share what little insight I possess with you."
Her friend's melodramatic statement made her smile. At the same time, Victoria ducked her head in sheepish acknowledgment of her own stubbornness. "You know I honor your wisdom, Sylvie. Do you think I should meet with Jake Barrett?"
"I think you must do whatever is necessary to restore the peace. Our pack is few, and we are weak."
Victoria's temper sparked. "I am not weak."
Sylvie smiled. "No, you are not weak. You are the mightiest of us, but it does not change the fact that you are with child. As the pregnancy advances, it will sap your strength, and you have no mate to defend you. All of our men are dead. Even your mate's son, that shiftless excuse for a wolf, has abandoned us."
"That's not entirely fair. I told Logan we didn't need him."
Sylvie snorted with derision. "His head was full of nothing but selfish concerns, or he wouldn't have believed you."
Victoria sighed. "He provided the roof over our heads and enough money to cover our bills for some time to come."
"Without a male to defend our territory, our situation is worse than precarious. Vampires boldly trespass on our lands, and we are living on borrowed time until another pack decides to drive us from our territory."
Victoria bit her tongue. Her defense of Logan died. Her numerous concerns and obligations dictated she focus her energy. "I can't help it. I don't trust Jake Barrett."
A pause ensued while Sylvie composed her thoughts. Victoria waited patiently.
Eventually, Sylvie spoke: "Victory, I have known Jake Barrett for almost thirty years, and I have observed him to be honorable in his dealings with us. He is not the sort of man to bring a bomb to peace negotiations, or to murder a child."
The memory of the events in Albuquerque still haunted Victoria. During December of the prior year, Jake Barrett and his people had captured fifteen-year-old Jasper. The hunters held the teenage werewolf hostage, and murdered him in cold blood. The pain of having lost a child of the pack who was under her protection fueled her smoldering anger.
"But he is exactly that sort of man," Victoria said in a tight voice. Conflict divided her heart. In her dream, Daniel had told her to go to his father for help. "The hunters ambushed our pack and slaughtered our people in a vicious act of revenge because they believed I murdered Daniel."
Sylvie's hand cut the air in a forceful gesture. "That's what we assumed, but that explosion wounded many people on both sides, and the fighting broke out afterward. Do you really believe Jake Barrett would kill his own people?"
"I don't know. I just don't know." Victoria's teeth gnashed together, and she shook her head in frustration. For a moment, arrogance defined her. She considered ordering the older woman to drop the subject even though a Skald must always be free to speak her mind.
"The question of the man's character must be resolved."
Victoria sighed. "I agree, but I can't help feeling we're dishonoring all those who have sacrificed their lives by initiating peace talks."
Morena cleared her throat. "Hey, guys, what's up? Whatcha talkin' about?"
Sylvie and Victoria traded a glance and then turned in unison toward the kitchen entrance. The teenage werewolf stood with her arms across her chest, obviously trying to look nonchalant, but she fooled no one.
"Hi, Morie, how was your run?" Sylvie asked. The Beta's apprehension bled into the pack bond. They both tried, though often failed, to shield Morena from life's grim realities.
"Great. I covered about ten miles with the pups. They should be nice and worn out." Morena headed straight for the fridge and pulled out an energy drink. Curls of damp hair clung to her face, and perspiration gave her brown skin a glossy sheen.
Victoria refused to play games. She pinned Morena with a direct gaze. "What did you hear?"
> "Oh, was there something to hear? What did I miss?" Morena bounced on her heels and wore a wide smile, the very image of innocence.
Victoria grumbled indistinct words beneath her breath, but she gave credit where it was due. Morena possessed exceptional skills of deception. The girl lied through evasion and wordplay designed to manipulate the truth. She stole from those outside the pack without compunction, and her lawless tendencies were getting worse as she got older. Their people admired cunning and guile, but a question remained whether her talent would ultimately benefit the pack or become a serious liability.
Victoria exhaled, formulating a reply, but Sylvie saved her the trouble. "We were talking about Victoria's baby. She's having a girl."
"Too bad." Morena waved her hand in a flippant gesture. "Boys are better."
"Girls are the same as boys, but then girls turn into incorrigible teenage brats." Victoria smothered a smile, and then adopted a stern expression instead. She enjoyed bantering with Morena. The girl more than held her own in most verbal skirmishes.
Morena grinned and rolled her eyes. She downed her energy drink in a single long gulp and then belched in satisfaction.
"Manners," Sylvie snapped.
"Excuse me." Morena assumed a repentant air.
"I need to get my bread into the oven." Sylvie rose from her chair.
"I can't wait to have a baby." Morena sighed with longing, a dreamy smile on her lips.
"Oh, goddess." Sylvie collapsed onto her seat with a solid thunk.
Victoria's mouth opened. Her mind went blank. She traded a panicked glance with Sylvie.
"Morie, enough of this nonsense," Sylvie said, wagging a scolding finger. "You're too young to be talking about babies. You don't even have a mate!"
The girl's dark eyes flashed, and her chin tilted at a defiant angle. "I'll be seventeen in a month. I'm old enough to take a mate. If I choose a man from another pack and ask him to join us, it'll make us stronger. Besides, it's not like I'm doing anything important right now anyway. I'm not in school. At least if I start having babies, I'll be contributing."
"That's enough," Victoria said, snapping out of her stupor. She didn't want to admit it, even to herself, but Morena's words worried her. Any male coming in from the outside would instinctively seek to take the rank of Alpha from her. She squared her shoulders and glared at the teen. "First thing Monday we're enrolling you in high school."
Battle Cry (Loki's Wolves Book 2) Page 7
