Battle Cry (Loki's Wolves Book 2)

by Melissa Snark

  The emergency response team extinguished the fire, took their reports, and departed. The sun dipped in the sky, and Jake prepared a light supper that father and son ate without exchanging a word.

  Sawyer waited in tense anticipation. Half of the time, he expected Victoria would burst through the downstairs bedroom door. The remainder, he worried the she-wolves would flee through the window into the night.

  He checked on them twice, cracking the door wide enough to peek through and assess the motionless figures on the bed. Both times, a pair of glowing golden eyes swung toward him, warily watching his every movement. Hastily, he shut the door and returned to the main room.

  Seated in a leather chair in front of the fireplace, Jake looked up from his cell phone. "Relax, Sawyer. You're as antsy as a green recruit. Victoria will come around when she's good and ready."

  "Want a beer?" Sawyer asked, ignoring the jibe. His injuries had been tended to, but his entire body ached. The physical pain didn't begin to compete with the leaden guilt he bore. He'd never atone for his sins, no matter what amends he made.

  "Sure."

  He retrieved two chilled bottles from the fridge and passed one to his father. He busied himself with stacking logs in the fireplace. April evenings still tended to be nippy, and so far the spring had been a cool one.

  Rare, companionable silence endured between the two men.

  "Skinner texted," Jake said eventually. "They caught up with Chart at a gas station. He's heading south toward Arizona."

  Sawyer twitched. "Did they take him alive?"

  "They hid a tracking device on his vehicle and let him go." Jake took a short pull from his beer. "With some luck and a bit of patience, he'll lead us straight to our real enemy."

  Nodding, Sawyer extracted a lighter from his pocket and ignited the kindling. He sat back on his haunches to watch the fire grow. "What I can't get over is how Andy Chart betrayed you."

  "I admit, it surprised me too," Jake said gruffly.

  He shot his father a dark look. "I'm not shocked that weasel betrayed you. What amazes me is that he had the balls to do it and think he could get away with it."

  "We don't know what he's thinking," Jake said, tone reasonable. "Not until we catch up with him and ask."

  Sawyer grunted. With the iron poker, he took a stab at the young fire to move a log to a better position. A shower of sparks flew into the air. His beer sat on the stone hearth, untouched.

  "What's troubling you, Son?"

  His brow knit, and his body tensed. His father's evasive tendencies, although familiar, always wore at his patience. Sawyer preferred straight answers without second-guessing. He placed the tool in the wrought iron stand and sat on the couch. "I miss mom."

  Sarah Barrett had possessed uncanny insight when it came to her family. She always clarified and explained Jake's motives and actions. She had been their bridge, and without her, the gap between father and son grew wider every day.

  "So do I." Jake's voice contained a forlorn note, alluding to underlying pain. The old man's taciturn nature made such demonstrations a rarity. He seldom showed affection or vulnerability even to those closest to him.

  Unsure of how to respond, Sawyer fell silent. He had more blood on his hands than he'd ever imagined possible, and yet his brother's death remained unavenged. Deep-seated guilt gnawed at him, but fear of appearing weak in his father's eyes kept him from talking.

  Jake's mood remained expansive, a rare condition for the solitary hunter, and he continued speaking in a mellow baritone. "I love your mother like I've never loved anyone. I always knew someday she'd die, but—"

  Jake's voice cracked, and he paused.

  Sawyer filled in the unspoken words, I always assumed I'd go first.

  "You almost died today, Dad. Was that real?" Even though Jake always maintained his mortal life would end one day, Sawyer never believed it. In his mind, the Hunter King was too big, too powerful. Larger than life. Yet today's events rammed home the real possibility.

  "Yes, absolutely. Granted, I'm harder to kill than most men, but I came damn close today." His father exhaled before continuing. "My heart was damaged beyond my natural ability to repair it. Without Victoria's intervention, I'd be dead. She really did save my life."

  "You don't sound too concerned with the prospect." Glowering, Sawyer hid his fear beneath a belligerent mask. His father spoke far too easily of his own death, without a hint of alarm or aversion.

  His old man looked at him with surprise from beneath a furrowed brow. "It's true. I have no fear of death, and I look forward to being reunited with Sarah. Every day that passes without her pains me."

  "Why the hell are you staying then?" Chills shot through Sawyer's body. His dad's nonchalance disturbed him on so many levels. The death of his body wasn't the end, but one thing was certain—everything would change beyond recognition if he died.

  Jake's flinty gaze never wavered. "Your brothers are still minors. I promised your mother on her deathbed that I'd watch over them until they become ready to stand on their own as men."

  Sawyer's heart ached. He desperately wanted to tell his father—I need you too. But his throat constricted tight, and his tongue was as thick as cotton. His mouth never opened. No words emerged.

  Jake continued, "I've made commitments to the mortals under my protection, too, which I intend to keep. It used to be that I didn't care. Human life didn't matter much. But your mother changed me in profound ways. Sometimes, it shocks me how much."

  "I hate it when you talk about dying so casually," Sawyer said. "Life and death aren't a game."

  Jake flashed white, even teeth. "That really depends on who you ask."

  Troubled, Sawyer turned his gaze toward the fire, seeking comfort in the dancing flames. Heat and light. On a primal level, the siren song of the Wild Hunt beckoned him to join. In combat, the rhythm and pulse compelled him to violence, a battle cry on his lips and the fiery haze of anger immolating reason.

  Åsgårdsreien: the Wild Hunt, the manifestation of his legacy.

  The silence endured. Stretched. No longer comfortable, it boomed with discontent. Unable to sit still, Sawyer stood and added another log. He used the poker to position it, stirring up more sparks.

  "You still haven't said what's really bugging you," Jake said.

  The muscles in his back jerked. "Victoria knows you're a god." Maybe not the most tactful opening, but he made his point.

  Jake's lips curved into an amused smile. "Of course she does. She's stubborn, not stupid. I suspect she's sensed something different about us all along. Your brother's strength must have attracted her."

  "What are you going to do?"

  Jake took a long swig, perhaps using the action as an opportunity to consider. At a glance he appeared relaxed, but vibrant tension lurked beneath the composed exterior. "Victoria has acquitted herself with honor. When it came down to it, she healed your hand and my heart despite her grievances."

  Sawyer shifted his position, more than a little uneasy. The question remained unanswered in spite of his father's response. The evasion told him his father didn't want to answer, which meant one of two things. Either he didn't know what to do with Victoria, or he'd already decided and didn't want to tell Sawyer.

  "Once she saw the protective runes, she refused to heal you. I had to pay blood price to get her to cooperate." Sawyer expected his old man to be displeased.

  Sure enough, Jake sat straighter, brow knit. "What did you give her?"

  "The Chevelle." Sawyer braced, anticipating another storm.

  "The Chevelle?" The high note in his father's voice contained surprise. Scowling, he lapsed into silence.

  The lack of reaction worried him more than an angry outburst. The uncomfortable silence got to be too much, drove Sawyer to offer further explanation. "The treaty's not in effect anymore, and she's still wrongly blaming you for that boy's death. Frankly, I think the power of the warding scared her. I made the deal because your life is worth more than that dam
n car."

  Jake cleared his throat, a gruff rumble. "I'm not criticizing you, Sawyer. I'm sure you did what you had to do. I'm simply surprised at how pragmatic she is. She has a lot of her father in her."

  "You still haven't answered my question." Sawyer returned the iron to the stand and assumed a seat in the opposing armchair. He took a quick swing of his beer.

  Jake harrumphed. "About Victoria?

  "Do you think she'll keep your secret?" Sawyer asked, changing tactics. He took another jab at the fire, stirring the flames and raising more embers.

  The muscles in Jake's face tightened, signaling uncertainty. His wide-set nostrils flared as he inhaled. "Her father took my secret to his grave, so yes, I believe she can be trusted. The problem isn't with her. It's with us."

  His blood roared in his ears. Heart throbbing, Sawyer's fists clenched so hard his knuckles ached. Pressure built. "You mean me," he grated out. "The problem is me."

  Jake's chair creaked beneath his shifting weight as he rose to his feet. "I meant what I said, Sawyer. I'm your father. I've got your back no matter what. But Victoria can't ever find out who murdered Jasper."

  "I know that. I'm not stupid or suicidal," Sawyer snapped. "She'd kill me." The guilty weight on his shoulders threatened to crush him. I deserve to die.

  Apparently satisfied, Jake eased into his seat. His hands gripped the arms of the chair. "I don't like deceiving her, Sawyer. It does our honor no credit, and if she ever finds out, she'll regard it as a betrayal."

  "Rightly so." Renewed resolve fueled Sawyer's determination to find some way to make amends for the boy's death. He'd start by putting things right between hunters and wolves. Restoring the alliance wouldn't repay his debt, not by a long shot, but at least it put him on the road to making amends.

  "Your ingenuity has given me an idea."

  Sawyer blinked and turned his attention outward to focus on his father. "What do you mean?"

  Face turned toward the fire, Jake settled deeper into the armchair. "You've reminded me that Victoria's people retain their cultural traditions. In the old days, before there were prisons, there were other ways of keeping the peace. Blood feuds are costly, and the Storm Pack can't afford to remain at war with us."

  Sawyer swallowed so his Adam's apple bobbed. After consideration, he realized what his father meant to do. "You're going to offer to pay blood price for the boy's death."

  Jake nodded. "It's the right thing to do. As part of the conditions, she'll have to forswear her pursuit of vengeance."

  Ashamed, he looked away. Only a small, worthless man depended on his father to pay his debts. Sawyer owed the people he'd wronged. He should pay. His voice blistered with restrained anger. "I don't want you settling my obligations."

  His father's head jerked toward him. "You don't have to like it, Sawyer. You just have to find a way to live with it. We can't win against the undead without the packs as our allies. More than that, we need Victoria."

  The urgency, the fear in Jake's voice turned Sawyer's blood to ice. "What's happened?"

  Taking a deep breath, his dad stood and placed his hands upon Sawyer's shoulders. "There's something I need to tell you, Sawyer. I only just learned about this, so I don't want you concluding that I've been keeping secrets from you. But I need to know that you'll stay calm and focused."

  "I'll keep my cool. What is it?"

  Jake's grip tightened as if to brace his son. "Your brother's soul isn't in Valhalla. He's captive and controlled by the monster that killed him, this Vildivia."

  The shock sent a pulse of cold through his core. His father's steadfast presence kept him anchored. Once he processed the revelation, he asked, "How do you know?"

  Jake lowered his chin, and he locked gazes with his son. Wrath burned in his dark eyes, the destructive force of a world destroyer. "Victoria had a vision. The vampire has used your brother's soul as a puppet to manipulate you and her. He's hurt you, and I'm concerned he'll go after your brothers. I don't know what his endgame is, and I don't give a shit. When I get hold of him, Vildivia is going to pay."

  Sawyer took a deep breath. Rescuing Daniel superseded every other priority and became the single thing that mattered. "We're going after him?"

  Jake nodded. "First thing in the morning. We'll free Daniel and send this carrion eater back to the deepest, coldest region of the underworld. I promise you."

  CHAPTER TEN

  Fólkvangr, Freya's hall in Sessrúmnir

  Freya breathed deeply, filling her lungs, bracing to verbalize the question she had thus far avoided. The current direction of the conversation left her with no choice. "What do you want from me, Loki?"

  His pacing grew restless, swifter, directionless. "Your priestess, Victoria Storm, wields the enchanted dagger, the only weapon that can slice Fenrir's bindings."

  "You're surprised." Freya's hands settled at her sides. She longed to throttle Loki's slimy throat but sensed guile and seduction served her best against the Trickster. He put such stock in his cleverness. His enormous ego blinded him to his own tactics being employed against him.

  "Yes." Expression inscrutable, he regarded her for a long time before he spoke again. "That dagger is your guarantee against my treachery. Yet you entrust one of my wolves with possession of it."

  She stood straighter. "Victoria is my priestess, as was her mother, and her mother's mother, going back for centuries. She is loyal only to me."

  Midgard

  "He's a dominant male without kinship to the pack. Human and a hunter." Bursting with hyper energy, Morena bounced in the passenger seat of the black SUV as they rolled to a halt at a stop sign.

  Victoria's teeth produced an impatient click. "Thank you so much for pointing it out, because I hadn't noticed."

  She used the opportunity to glance in the rear view mirror and confirm that Sawyer was still behind her in the Chevelle. With the top down and one arm resting on the driver side door, he looked like a badass with his windswept blond hair and aviator sunglasses.

  He must've noticed her watching him since he tipped his chin toward her. She couldn't see his eyes, but his hot and intense attention focused on her like a spotlight through the pack bond. She picked up on the hunter's irritation and agitation—he wasn't any more comfortable than she was.

  Rolling her eyes, Morena sucked in her cheeks. "So you weren't just checking him out?"

  Victoria heaved a heavy sigh. "Not in a million years."

  Sawyer's discomfort mirrored her mood precisely. Foolishly, she'd hoped the connection she'd forged with Sawyer to save his father would collapse once the resurrection was completed. By her reckoning, it should have fallen like a house of cards under the weight of their mutual distrust. Instead, the tie appeared to be holding fast.

  Goddess... Before she completed the prayer, Victoria stumbled to a stuttering halt. Freya wasn't speaking to her. Receiving the silent treatment drove her up the wall. Anything else would have been preferable—angry recriminations or accusations of disloyalty. Guilt ate at her, but she knew in her heart that given the same set of circumstances, she'd have done the same thing again.

  The whole situation made her head hurt. Her temples throbbed with the onset of a tension headache and nausea swam in her gut like a bowlful of goldfish. At least she wore clean clothing, thanks to the emergency go-bag she kept stashed in the back of her vehicle.

  "Slug bug!" Waving a pointed finger, Morena's other hand shot out and tagged Victoria's upper arm.

  Scowling, Victoria forced her attention back to the road, noting the vehicle which approached the four-way intersection from the opposite direction. Annoyed with herself for the lapse, she took her foot off the brake and punched the gas before she forfeited her turn to go.

  "That's three to one," Morie bragged.

  "No fair! That's a New Beetle," Victoria protested as they passed the oncoming VW. She noted that Sawyer didn't bother with a full and proper stop. He rolled right through the sign.

  "Still counts. Rand and I mo
dified the rules while we were on the run. Old Bugs are getting harder to find." With a cheeky grin, Morena stuck out her tongue. "You would've seen it, except you were too busy checking out the asshole hunter."

  "You'd better not let Sylvie hear you talking like that," Victoria muttered, eyeing the girl.

  Morena huffed. "I'm not stupid. Besides, I bet right now I could cuss up a storm and Sylvie wouldn't even notice. Cause she's gonna be too busy lecturing you about allowing a hunter to join our pack." The girl's voice grew stern as she did a good impression of the older woman. "Victoria, are you sure this is wise?"

  There were moments when Victoria regretted her lax approach to discipline. Larger packs tended to have stricter rules, rigid social structure, and formal etiquette. Lower ranked members addressed the Alpha with the utmost respect. War bands were the equivalent of military units.

  "I do hope you're not considering taking Sawyer Barrett as a mate. He's entirely unsuitable, and he'll upset our dynamic." Blowing out her cheeks, Morena ruined her Sylvie-impression by succumbing to a fit of giggles halfway through.

  Victoria scowled to hide the grin which threatened to split her face. "You're getting good at that. You sound just like Sylvie."

  "Thanks," Morena chirped. "I've been practicing. How am I doing?"

  "Pretty good." Victoria turned off the highway onto the exit that took them home. The Chevelle continued to shadow them.

  "Should I keep going?" Morena asked, obviously eager to show off.

  Victoria hesitated, debating the wisdom of encouraging her, but the opportunity to bond with Morena trumped everything else. "Sure, go ahead."

  Morena made a show of crossing her arms and tilting her head back to adopt a comically thoughtful posture. She resumed impersonating Sylvie. "On the other hand, perhaps I'm being too hasty. After all, the Barrett family is powerful and a smart political marriage would cement the new alliance."

  Victoria blinked, then cast the teenager a sharp glance. Was Morena serious or was this still part of her satire? She opened her mouth to ask but hesitated, policing her choice of words. Familiarity with the teenager's sense of humor cautioned her against speaking too readily or freely, lest she wind up being the real target of her wicked wit.