Storm Wolf

by Jane Godman

  With a surge of strength, Serena pulled herself up on her hind legs, drawing Odessa with her in a deadly embrace. Teeth snapped and claws slashed as they writhed, both determined to gain the upper hand. Fighting to keep Serena’s fangs from closing on her neck, Odessa let out a yowl of pure agony as razor-sharp claws pierced the soft flesh of her belly.

  There was a commotion in one corner of the room as the Siberian Vigo had been dragging by its hind leg transformed suddenly into Chastel. The realization hit Odessa. Chastel must have disguised himself as one of the werewolves, but, having decided the fight was too much for him, he now clearly wanted out. In human form once more, he appeared to be getting away. Lowell and Samson turned on him in one swift movement.

  Distracted, Serena let out a howl of fury that her ally was deserting her. The interruption gave Odessa the advantage she needed. While Serena was preoccupied with what Chastel was doing, Odessa raised a paw and swiped it across the other werewolf’s face. Blood welled in a line down the center of Serena’s snout, spraying across both their faces. Seizing her chance, Odessa drove her opponent to the floor, pinning her down on her back once more.

  Canines bared, she struck without hesitation, tearing deep into the flesh of Serena’s throat. The warm copper flavor of blood flooded her mouth, dripping down her chest as the werewolf beneath her struggled and thrashed. Odessa shook her head violently until she heard the loud crack of Serena’s neck breaking.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The dawn light turned blue with Samson’s curses as he shifted back. “That bastard Chastel disappeared into thin air as soon as Lowell and I got close to him. Who knew he could use invisibility as well as disguise?”

  “His cowardice is as legendary as his powers of sorcery,” Lowell said. He placed an arm around Odessa’s shoulders. She appeared stunned at the carnage around her and her part in it. “Does your mother have an ax?”

  “Hmm?” She lifted her gaze from the mangled bodies of the werewolves around her to look at him.

  “These werewolves are not truly dead unless we decapitate them and burn their bodies. We can’t leave them maimed like this. It would be cruel.” Even though he kept his voice gentle, the full impact of his words hit her and her eyes widened in shock.

  A shudder ran through her slender frame. “That’s horrible. Is that what you do when you talk about ‘cleaning up’?”

  He nodded. “It has to be done.”

  “I did that.” She gestured toward Serena’s limp body. Her hand shook as she swiped it over her lips. “I can still taste her blood. I broke her neck.”

  “She would have done the same to you.”

  Tears rolled down her cheeks. “That doesn’t make it feel any easier.”

  “I’ll let you in on a secret.” He held her close, feeling the sobs vibrate from her body through to his. “It never does.”

  After a while, she straightened. Her eyes were red and her voice husky, but she was in control of her emotions once more. “There is an ax in the outbuilding at the rear of the house.”

  “Will I find a rope out there as well?”

  A frown drew Odessa’s brows together. “I think so. Why?”

  “Because we need to get your mother out of that well.”

  Her hand flew up to cover mouth. “Oh, good lord. How could I have forgotten about that? She will be livid.”

  “Then we’d better hurry.” Lowell drew her outside with him. Together they searched the outbuilding, finding an ax and several lengths of rope. Knowing how squeamish the forthcoming operation to get rid of the bodies had made Odessa feel, Lowell called Wilder and Samson over when they got back to the house.

  “You and the team clean up in here while Odessa and I go and bring Emina up from the well.” Before the rest of the brotherhood could begin their tried-and-trusted routine, Lowell led Odessa outside.

  The early morning light revealed the forest in its true glory as Odessa showed him the way toward the well. A serene glow bathed the trees in a green-gold color and the birds greeted them with songs of merriment and cheer. The sweet fragrance of wildflowers managed to just peep through the stronger scents of resin and pine.

  Odessa held up her right hand. “The mark has gone. As soon as Serena died, the pain vanished.”

  Chastel had escaped, there were still unanswered questions, but Odessa’s hand was in his, she loved him and it was a beautiful morning. Lowell’s heart gave an upward tilt. He wondered if it was that thing other people experienced called optimism. It was a new sensation, but it was something he thought he could get used to.

  As they neared the well, Odessa halted. “You know that feeling you get when something is wrong, but you don’t know what it is?” She looked around, her eyes searching the trees. “As if something is crawling down your spine?”

  Fate couldn’t be that cruel. Could it? Not when everything seemed to finally be reaching a resolution. Just as he opened his mouth to reassure Odessa, Lowell heard a sound in the trees.

  “Stay close to me.”

  “That’s exactly what I was planning to do,” Odessa whispered, pressing close up against his side.

  A flicker of movement caught Lowell’s attention and, as he turned toward it, Odessa gasped. A woman emerged from the trees. Lowell didn’t need to ask who she was. She was an older version of Odessa. The white streak in her hair was wider, her body was leaner and there were lines about her eyes and mouth, but there was no question about it. This must be Emina.

  “Mother?” Odessa took a step toward the other woman. “How did you get out of the well?”

  Lowell caught her arm, restraining her before she could dash forward. There was no way Emina could have gotten out of that well. Even Odessa, who was young and fit, must have had a supercharged burst of energy to do it. This woman would not have had the strength or stamina to climb a sheer wall. Odessa gazed up at him, her initial frown of annoyance at being stopped became a look of understanding. He saw the flash of fear in her eyes. This was not Emina.

  The fake Emina took a step closer to them and grinned. It was not a natural smile and Odessa gave a little cry as the iris of one the other woman’s eyes darkened from pale blue to glistening black. The black spread and filled the entire surface of the eye, before it sank into the socket. At the same time, the flesh on the same side of the creature’s face began to ripple like melting candle wax. A putrid, sickening stench filled the air.

  “What is it?” Odessa shrank closer to Lowell.

  “I don’t know, but I think we may have discovered what Samson meant when he said there was a smell that reminded him of Fenrir.”

  Within seconds, the woman had changed so that she no longer resembled Emina. Now, she was half living and half dead. The half of her body that was alive was young and beautiful, with clear skin and flowing blond tresses. The other half was decayed and diseased, with bone showing through decomposed flesh and hair like cobwebs. As Lowell stared at her in shock, a voice from behind him drew his attention.

  “Say hello to Hel, my friends.”

  * * *

  Jean Chastel pointed a gun at Lowell as he strode toward them. “I was only half hopeful that you would be fooled into believing she was your mother and step into her embrace.” The bounty hunter indicated the grotesque figure who stood a few feet away from them quivering as though in a high breeze. “But I figured it was worth a try.”

  “You summoned the goddess Hel from the underworld?” Lowell’s voice was incredulous.

  “Oh, she came of her own free will. Once she knew I was working with her brother, Fenrir, she was only too happy to help. She is here to escort you and your fellow Arctic werewolves to her underworld home.”

  “What is going on?” Odessa could tell from Lowell’s expression this was bad—although she’d also gathered that from the gun leveled at Lowell’s chest—but she had no idea who or what they were talking about. It was yet another reminder that, for someone who was descended from them, her knowledge of the Norse gods was severely
limited.

  “Am I to understand that you have never met your great-aunt Hel?” Chastel’s mocking tones were seriously annoying. “I’m sure she’d love to give you a hug.”

  Odessa cast a look in the direction of the repulsive creature who watched them closely. “I think I’ll pass.”

  “Harsh,” Chastel said. “But I know how awkward family reunions can be.”

  “Fenrir was the eldest of the three children of Loki and Angrboda. Fenrir is a werewolf while his brother Jormungand is a giant serpent. Their younger sister Hel is half alive and half dead. The gods fear all three,” Lowell explained. “They threw Jormungand into the ocean. Fenrir, as you know, is chained under the palace of Jotunheim. Hel was banished to the underworld of Niflheim where she rules over the dead. Her embrace is certain death.”

  “Don’t worry.” Chastel grinned. “All families have those one or two members you hope won’t turn up when there’s a party. Although I have to say, your family does have more than its fair share—”

  “The joke is wearing thin, Chastel.” Lowell’s jaw was tightly clenched.

  “I was just starting to enjoy myself, but if you insist I’ll get straight to the punch line.”

  Everything seemed to slow down in that moment. Odessa had time to notice the tiny details of what was happening. Chastel was still smiling as he pulled the trigger. She heard her own cry of horror and smelled the sickening stench of the silver bullet. Something, or someone, barreled into Chastel at the exact moment he fired, so the bullet that should have hit Lowell square in the center of his chest went low and caught him in the knee. Lowell hit the ground, his face contorting in agony.

  That was the point at which time switched from slow motion to double time. Chastel had dropped his gun when the unknown Arctic werewolf crashed into him. Now he was on his knees, scrabbling for it. Odessa crossed the space between them, slamming her heel hard into Chastel’s face. Even though her foot was bare, she heard his nose crunch beneath the impact of the blow. Chastel screamed and fell on his side. Intense satisfaction flooded through her. Her only regret was that she couldn’t do it all over again.

  Before she could kick the gun aside, long, tapering fingers reached for it. Odessa looked up, her eyes meeting Angrboda’s. She took a moment to register Alexei’s presence just behind the goddess. He looked shocked as he took in the scene.

  “Go to Lowell. I will deal with the rest.”

  Relief flooded through Odessa. When the goddess said she would deal with something, you knew she meant it. She hurried back to where Lowell lay. He was completely still. Kneeling beside him, fear gripped her. He was barely conscious, his breathing was desperately shallow and his face was like wax. Although there was very little blood from the wound, his knee was . . . well, it was no longer knee shaped.

  The Arctic werewolf who had knocked Chastel off balance had shifted back and it was comforting to see Gunnar’s face as he knelt beside her.

  “He has a silver bullet lodged in his knee.” Odessa did her best to keep the tears out of her voice. Lowell needed her to stay calm.

  “I have to get that out first.” The urgency in his voice scared her more than anything else. “The longer the silver is in his system, the more damage it will do. Can you bring me a knife?”

  Although the distance was short, Odessa shifted and ran like the wind to her mother’s house. Grabbing Emina’s sharpest filleting knife—and ignoring the queasy feeling it gave her to think of it probing Lowell’s flesh—and towels, she dashed back out of the house again.

  “Odessa!” Samson’s voice hailed her. “Where have you been?”

  “You’ll have to run with me if you want me to tell you.”

  He caught up to her and glanced down at her face, his own expression changing as they ran. “What the fuck . . . ?”

  “Chastel shot Lowell.”

  They had already reached the point where Gunnar was kneeling over Lowell by then, so no further explanations were necessary.

  As soon as Odessa handed him the knife, Gunnar got to work, using it to dig deep into Lowell’s flesh. Samson, quickly taking in the situation, knelt to hold down his friend’s shoulders as Lowell’s body contorted and writhed with pain. The groan that escaped his lips, while proof that he was alive and could still feel, tore through Odessa’s heart. She couldn’t watch. Turning away, tears blinding her, she stumbled, and was caught up in her grandmother’s scented embrace.

  “It looks like we arrived just in time,” Angrboda said.

  “Why did you come?”

  “Alexei was behaving increasingly oddly. Gunnar and I had already decided his reluctance to walk all the way to your mother’s house was an act, but he was becoming more and more restless. He kept watching the trail as though expecting someone to come down it. Then he started asking questions about Fenrir and Hel.” Angrboda cast a glance in Alexei’s direction. He was sitting on a tree stump, moodily kicking up leaves. “I knew something wasn’t right.”

  Her smile was sad. “I have a sixth sense where my own children are concerned. When we questioned him, he poured out the whole story about how Chastel was here, and how he had fooled Hel into coming to this place so she could take the brotherhood to the underworld as part of Chastel’s plans to destroy them.”

  She took Odessa’s hand and led her closer to Hel. Odessa regarded the strange harlequin figure with a combination of fear and curiosity. On closer inspection, Hel’s single blue eye revealed a sorrow that was truly heartbreaking.

  “She will not harm you,” Angrboda said. “Unlike her brothers, there is no malice in my daughter’s heart. If she has been brought here to do the bidding of others”—she looked at where Chastel was still crouched on the ground clutching a hand over his bloodied nose, her expression hardening—“she has been duped. Her power to carry the living into the underworld can be used for destruction, but that would never be her own choice.”

  “Chastel said Hel was here to assist Fenrir,” Odessa said.

  “Ah, yes. Hel would do anything for her brothers. Perhaps she is the conduit through which this evil bounty hunter has been communicating with my son.” Angrboda’s tone did not bode well for Chastel. She turned to Hel, her voice softening. “Clearly her task was to take the brotherhood to the underworld with her. I will not have her used to suit the evil plans of another. It is time for you to return to Niflheim, my daughter.”

  Hel’s one good eyelid fluttered. Although it was impossible to see expression on that ruined face, Odessa sensed relief emanating from her. The side of her mouth that was intact lifted briefly in a smile and then she just . . . went. There was no drama or performance about it. She didn’t fade away or shimmer. If anything, she seemed to fold neatly into the earth at her feet. One moment she was there, the next she was gone. The goddess of the underworld had returned to her home.

  “The bullet is out. Now I need water and something to stitch this wound.” Gunnar’s voice claimed Odessa’s attention.

  When she turned, she saw Samson had lifted Lowell’s now unconscious body into his arms. She hurried to accompany them. “My mother has needles and twine and a barrel of fresh water in the house.”

  “I will wait with the prisoners until you send someone to join me.” Angrboda was standing over Chastel. “If this one so much as moves, it will give me great pleasure to break more than his nose.”

  * * *

  The sounds came to Lowell through a haze. Voices alternately boomed and whispered. Concern echoed in each of them. He wanted to reassure them and tell them to leave him in peace the same time. The pain was too great to do either. There was grinding, gnawing agony in his knee, but also burning, fizzing agony in every part of his body. It spread through his nerve endings, permeating his muscles and joints until he wanted to curl up and give in to its demands. Die. That was what it wanted him to do. Right now it seemed like a pretty good idea. Anything would be better than this.

  “The bullet is gone but the silver is still in his system.” Lowell knew
that voice. It was strong and authoritative. He forced himself to concentrate on it instead of drifting back into unconsciousness. “I should know. Four hundred years ago Santin stabbed me with a silver blade. I still wake up from the nightmare of how it feels to have that poison in your blood.”

  “Gunnar, please tell me he won’t lose that leg.” It was a different voice. The woman was close to tears and quivering with emotion. Lowell wanted to sit up and draw the owner of this voice into his arms.

  “Losing the leg may be the best we can hope for.” The man called Gunnar spoke gently, provoking desperate sobs from the woman.

  “Can anyone tell me why there are so any people in my house and why there is a naked Arctic werewolf on my kitchen table?” He definitely didn’t know this voice. The woman who spoke was shrill and her strident tone hurt his ears. He wished she would go away again.

  There was a babble of conversation that he couldn’t follow, then the shrill woman spoke again. “I don’t care if you are the great Angrboda—not that I want anything to do with a woman of your reputation, goddess or not—I will not be spoken to like that in my own home!”

  “Someone tell her to shut the fuck up.” Lowell was pleased to find his own voice worked well enough to stun everyone into silence. Or maybe it was the fact that they had been expecting him to die any minute now that had the effect of making them all turn to look at him.

  “You’re awake.” A soft hand smoothed the hair back from his brow and a pair of familiar—and very beloved—pale blue eyes gazed into his.

  “Odessa, get your hands off that Arctic this instant. How dare he use language like that to me? And who is he anyway?”

  With an effort, Lowell managed to turn his head. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Emina. I’m your future son-in-law.”