"You sure as hell better know what you're doing." Jake conveyed the deadly threat with a simple sentence, the embodiment of vengeance.
"I do." Victoria focused her rage. The beast in her chest was about to burst free. She wanted to scream, to howl. But she was more than an animal. She was a healer and a priestess and a leader.
"Freya, accept this sacrifice. I make it in your name." White-hot light burst from her palms and flared outward to envelop Vildivia's head in a nova. Shrieking, the vampire bucked and writhed in agony, but he failed to throw her. Her hands sank deep through melting flesh that ran like hot wax off his skull.
"Victoria!" Jake's enraged shout roared over the vampire's screams. He seized her shoulder, but he was too late.
The holy inferno consumed Vildivia's skull, incinerating bone and brain matter and reducing everything to ash. The resistance beneath her hands vanished, and slag spilled through her spread fingers to the pile forming on the ground. Decapitated, the vampire's ancient body rapidly decayed, leaving her kneeling in his residue.
"What have you done?" Jake asked in a ragged voice, raw with horror. The hand locked on her arm tightened even further, hurting her.
Expecting fury, Victoria met his eyes, but she found sorrow and despair. A father's face contorted with the agony of having lost a beloved son. Her heart hurt for him. She grieved with him. She longed to offer assurances and comfort, but deep down, a paralyzing doubt niggled at her conscience. What if she was wrong? What if she'd destroyed their only means of freeing Daniel?
Only one way to find out...
"This. I've done this." She groped through the pile of slag, sifting it with her fingers. Her hand touched something hard. She grasped the artifact and lifted it, shaking off the ash. The toxic aura of silver impinged on her soul seconds before the metal scalded her skin. The links of a heavy chain seared her palms, and the scent of burnt flesh wafted into the air.
Agonized, she whimpered but refused to release the amulet. Gritting her teeth, she shook off the last of the ash and revealed an antique necklace. A large, radiant ruby pulsed at the center of the tarnished talisman—the vibrant soul of her murdered lover.
"Daniel's soul is trapped here." Pain coursing through her arm, she offered the item to Jake.
He cast a stunned glance at the necklace and then raised his gaze to her face. His strong hand closed about the talisman, and he lifted it from her grasp. His eyes gleamed, and a smile formed on his lips. He stared at the ruby and then closed his fist, holding it tight.
Relieved, Victoria's breath exhaled in a whoosh. The pain ceased, and her naturally accelerated healing kicked in. Silver injuries took longer to heal than other types of wounds, so she'd bear burn marks on her palms for a few hours to come.
She thought she saw admiration in his eyes, and her heart gladdened. Certainly respect. Doubts banished, she sat straighter and basked in his adulation. It wasn't often she succumbed to vanity or self-pride, but damn it, she intended to enjoy every narcissistic second of her triumph.
"How did you know?" he asked.
"He had two souls. The second was way too bright—" She cut her sentence short, jerking her head to the side. Jake also turned toward the disruption.
Reality shifted. Bifröst, shimmering path of the Aesir, surged through the wall of the armory in a multi-colored flash. A beautiful woman stepped off the rainbow bridge, and it closed behind her, leaving the building intact. She had the strong, fierce bearing of a Viking shield maiden, flame-red hair, bright blue eyes, armed with a sword and a shield.
"Hildr," Victoria exclaimed, astonished to see her sister Valkyrie. "Why are you here?"
Hildr opened her mouth but said nothing. Frowning, the Valkyrie looked from Victoria to Jake and back. She passed over the Hunter King without a hint of recognition. Following the hesitation, she said, "I was sent to collect the soul of the warrior fallen this day in combat and escort him to Valhalla, but I see you are already here. Has there been a mistake?"
Mind blank, Victoria blinked. Daniel's soul remained imprisoned in the amulet. Nothing had changed. Why would one of Odin's shield maidens be sent now? She traded a glance with Jake, perceiving his confusion. She took a deep breath, and the answer burst upon her as an epiphany—Hildr wasn't here for Daniel's soul at all.
Jake recoiled, mirroring her horrified realization. They spoke as one, "Sawyer."
From a standing leap, Victoria flew across the room and landed at Sawyer's side. She dropped to a crouch, seized his shoulders, and flipped him over. He turned as dead weight, heavy and limp. His skin had a grayish pallor, and his lips were blue.
"He has to be alive. He has to be," she voiced her desperation as she searched for a pulse and found none. Her head jerked in automatic denial. "I'd have felt him die."
The pack bond.
As Alpha, she should have experienced Sawyer's distress and been compelled to go to his aid. But she hadn't accepted him as a full member of her family, hadn't integrated him into her pack, hadn't wanted to deal with the emotional dilemma. He twisted her insides up into pretzels of doubt and confusion.
"Victoria, can you help him?" Thick with worry, Jake's voice came from behind her.
"I'll heal him." Victoria placed her hands directly over Sawyer's heart. Summoning her power, she reached to establish contact between them. For scary seconds, nothing happened, but then the pack bond whispered across a vast void, a pale shadow of the vital connection she shared with the rest of her wolves.
Radiant light haloed her hands and bathed Sawyer's skin. Her vision altered, allowing her to perceive shifting fields, overlapping auras, and biological patterns. His heart didn't beat, and his lungs drew no air. Dark, necrotic energy swirled through his body—the transformation to a vampire was well underway.
She turned her head toward Jake. "He's dead, but his soul is here."
"Save him," Jake grated the command. "Whatever it takes."
Behind her, a sharp inhalation preceded the shuffle of feet. Hildr protested, "No, you mustn't. This is forbidden."
"Hildr," Jake said. "Stay out of this. The decision goes well beyond your pay grade."
"His soul has been chosen to enter Valhalla," Hildr argued. "It is my duty to escort him."
Jake barked out a sharp curse and lunged toward the recalcitrant Valkyrie. The sounds of a scuffle blended with their argument and faded to a background din.
Returning her attention to Sawyer, Victoria shut them out. She trusted Jake to handle Hildr. If he couldn't, then no one could. She didn't have time for the distraction. She'd resurrected the dead twice before but always with the aid of a deity. She had no experience with vampires and didn't know if a reversal was even possible.
As she concentrated, her focus shifted to the mystical state of existence where the living and spiritual intersected. She no longer saw or heard the physical plane. An insidious demonic force assailed Sawyer's soul and ate away at his natural radiance, but his body's changes grabbed her attention. As she watched with sick fascination, the necrotic energy advanced through his corpse and reanimated dead cells.
Acting on a wild hunch, she summoned all of the power at her disposal and imposed her aura over Sawyer's body. At best, she hoped to use the regenerative properties of her metabolism to impede the change.
To her shock, it worked. The necrotic advance slowed and then halted.
"Freya," Victoria chanted the prayer. "I pray to you—"
The goddess interrupted. I'm sorry, Victoria, but I won't help you bring him back. I've made the mistake once already. Your mate gave his life to settle your debt with the Norns, to protect you and his child. What you did for Jake Barrett far exceeds mere mortal concerns, but Sawyer Barrett is human.
Reeling from shock at Freya's harsh rejection, Victoria gasped and rocked on her heels. She lost her balance but recovered before she fell out of sync with Sawyer. Needing something to hold onto, she dug her fingers into his muscular chest. "Arik begged me to save his son. He would have taken his ow
n life and damned his soul. I did what I had to do."
The goddess offered a stern, swift response. You always have your reasons, but I'm telling you, do not do this. It is too dangerous. Resurrecting this man violates the will of the Norns who have determined the day of his death and already cut his life thread.
Resentment flickered in her heart which shamed her greatly because there was no honor in rebellion. A goddess commanded her priestesses and had the right to demand fidelity, obedience, and diligence of them. Did she even deserve to call herself Freya's servant any longer?
Victoria braced to bow her stiff neck and submit to her Lady, but a stubborn, intractable darkness deep in her soul rebelled. She argued, "This is what he wants."
Even across the room, the Hunter King exerted an irresistible pull. Victoria turned toward him, blinking so her perception reverted to the physical world.
Hildr skulked in the corner, appearing thoroughly chastised.
Victoria looked into Jake's face. Their gazes locked, and she perceived a father's sorrow and love for his son. His hopes pinned on her, she who had already failed to protect his oldest son's life.
Daniel would beg her to save his brother.
Freya huffed. This is what you want, Victoria.
Tears blinded her. Heart in agony, Victoria licked her lips. "Are you telling me to choose, My Lady?"
Freya hesitated. Her essence embodied grief and anger, but caution edged her reply. I need you too much to renounce you. I will share you with him if I must, but think about this. You do his bidding to demonstrate your loyalty, but do you trust him to protect you when the time comes? What will he do when he learns of the prophecy that you will be the one to free the great wolf who will destroy him?
Victoria stopped breathing. Her heart thudded and skipped. Her eyes widened even as Jake's narrowed, but still he held her gaze. His chocolate-brown eyes were Daniel's whom she'd loved more than life itself. She stared deeper and deeper into eternity. He personified wisdom and ancient knowledge.
He smiled.
Uncertainty fell away, and her resolution hardened. To be true to herself, she would do whatever was necessary to defy Fate, even if it meant disappointing Freya or destroying the Norns. No matter the cost.
"He already knows who I am, and what I'm prophesized to do. I love you, My Lady, but in this I must disobey you. I am sorry." Victoria turned from Freya, and a vast void consumed her soul. Pain lanced through her, more agonizing than a severed limb or massive silver burn.
Freya's tearful sob filled her mind. As you wish.
Emptiness.
She blinked, and tears fell, splattering her arm and Sawyer's chest. She ached with loneliness. No more than she deserved but excruciating none the less. She hiccupped and then ruthlessly banished her useless weakness.
She repositioned her hand over Sawyer's chest. His flesh was ice cold to the touch. Her vision shifted once again, allowing her to perceive the mystical patterns of life and spirit that she manipulated as a healer. His body remained stuck in a state of stasis, the corrupting malignant energy held at bay by her regenerative aura.
Chest heaving, she reached out and took what she needed without asking permission or praying for the endowment. In her assessment, initiative and resolution mattered. Courage and honor counted. Much like wolves, personal loyalty meant everything, whether the kinship of blood relatives or the brotherhood of one's chosen family. Nothing else appeared to hold weight with the All-Father. Maybe his priesthood had fallen out of favor because they'd grown too timid.
In touch with the ultimate divinity, she died and was reborn.
A brilliant nova of sound and colors blinded her. Immense, unchecked power transformed Victoria. Remotely, she sensed constraints on his influence, restrictions on even the most powerful of the gods. True understanding of his entirety evaded her grasp, and his limitations were no more real than her own mortality. She soared, glorying in the ascension until she glimpsed something awful.
Horrified, she recoiled from the vision of the future.
"My gift, my curse." Jake's voice surrounded her. "Foresight. This is the awful, unalterable future. Do you want to see more?"
"No!" Terrified, she turned from the power and the prophecy. Already, her daring exceeded common sense to a dangerous degree. Blind arrogance led inevitably to downfall. She had a task to attend to, and then she must return to her mundane life, once again try to piece together the shattered ruins. She harbored no illusions—Freya would not forgive her infidelity a second time.
Concentrating, she sent healing energy coursing through Sawyer's body. Heat and light blazed where she touched his bare chest, a captive sun held in the palms of her hand. Dead cells revived and reverted to healthy, living tissue. She eradicated the last trace of necrotic energy from his body, and with a flicker of her will, she jumpstarted his heart. He inhaled, the first breath sharp and stuttering, but he swiftly settled into the slow, shallow rhythm of sleep.
Blinking, she brought her vision into focus again. Her surroundings resolved into an ancient primeval forest, vast trees towering overhead. Dappled sunlight filtered through the thick canopy. The sweet scent of fragrant grasses, bent and broken beneath her knees, wafted about her. Hundreds of birds sang in concert, and tall, broad leaf ferns swayed in the warm breeze. She recognized the dreamscape as the same place he had brought her to before, so she experienced no sense of fear at the unaccountable change in setting.
Awed, Victoria tilted her head back and inhaled, drinking in hundreds of distinct scents untainted by even a hint of pollution or synthetic materials. Nothing manmade. Nature at its purest.
Sawyer lay supine flat on his back upon a bed of matted grass before her. He remained sound asleep. She lifted her hand and discovered she'd left a print on his skin directly over his heart. Wincing, she scrubbed at the mark, but it wouldn't rub off.
"Shit." How was she going to explain an indelible brand in the shape of her hand? And why wasn't he awakening? With escalating urgency, she shook him. "Sawyer, wake up."
His mouth fell open, and he snored.
In her peripheral vision, everything shifted and blurred as if the scenery were rushing past at a great speed. Startled, her head jerked up to discover that a dense wood full of dead trees surrounded her. Instead of grass, she knelt in marshy soil that stank of decay and rot. A bog where a virgin forest once stood.
A man crouched opposite her, on Sawyer's other side. He was tall and strong, and the hooded cloak concealed his features except for his mouth. He had thin lips and a narrow, pointed chin. Thick glossy-brown hair cascaded to his throat.
The stranger's sudden proximity alarmed Victoria, so she bristled. In a rush, her wolf surfaced, and a low growl rumbled in her throat. Her eyes flashed a golden strobe, and her teeth elongated to fangs. Caught in an adrenaline rush, her muscles bunched as she prepared to pounce.
"Dust bunnies," he said in a rich, limber baritone.
She blinked and hesitated. "Excuse me?"
"We're all really like dust bunnies, snarled messy clumps that get stuck in dark corners, except when we're exposed. Then we're blown about and torn apart. Although, I suppose you might argue that Kansas said it better, certainly more eloquently."
Victoria scrunched her nose, regarding the madman with reservation. He sounded young, eminently reasonable, and his way of speaking struck her as oddly familiar, but she couldn't quite place him. She took an immediate and passionate disliking to him.
"Who are you?" she asked. "How are you here? And what do you want?"
"So many questions," he drawled. "Which would you like me to answer first?"
Her hands formed fists, and she checked the impulse to bloody his nose. His smugness irritated her like a poison ivy rash, pervasive and unremittingly itchy. She sneered and asked, "Do you have some disability that prevents you from answering them in order?"
He snickered and pushed back the cowl of his cloak. He was hideous to behold, ruddy and gnome-like, features pinched in
places, puffy in others. "I have many names, but you'd know me best as Loki."
Surging forward, Victoria straddled Sawyer's chest, hands on one side, feet on the other. A growl reverberated deep in her chest, and quicksilver energy flowed across her skin as she changed. Flicking her hands open, bones crunched, ground, and transformed to claws. White fur erupted across the back of her hands and arms. She stopped midway.
Laughing, Loki stood and retreated out of reach. He held up staying hands. "Take it easy there, Snowball. I don't want to hurt your Barbie-haired boy toy. I only want to talk—
"I'm not interested in anything you have to say." She glowered, wanting nothing more than to chase him down and rip him to shreds, but she refused to leave Sawyer unguarded. "How did you get here?"
"There you go. You are interested in something I have to say." Loki snickered at her snarled frustration. He leaned against a blackened tree stump, arms crossed over his chest. His head assumed an arrogant tilt. "I have a talent for slipping through cracks, and reality is more fractured than you'd ever imagine. Even the most impenetrable fortress has minor flaws, tiny holes I can sieve my essence through."
She stared at him in disbelief and then pantomimed a yawn, covering her mouth with her clawed hand. "You're as pedantic as I expected. Now if you're done with your self-important babbling, I have more pressing matters to attend..."
Darkness engulfed Loki's features, and the cavalier jester demeanor flashed. Flames blazed in his eyes as the facade slipped and revealed the true monster lurking beneath. "You're making a huge mistake, Victoria. You should heed Freya's warning. She may be the whore of Asgard, but at least she understands the All-Father's true nature. Odin may appear all good and wise and fatherly, but deep down, the truth is much more insidious."
She flinched as his words struck home, scoring a direct hit on her deepest worries and insecurities. A little voice whispered, What if he's right?
Loki mocked her with a cruel tone and smile. "I'm aware you've got daddy issues, little girl, but be careful who you choose to play—"
"Shut up!" Victoria leapt into the air, her fist aimed for his chin.
Battle Cry (Loki's Wolves Book 2) Page 26
