A Twist of Wyrd

by PJ Friel

  “I just want to get my mom back,” I whispered, giving in to the despair for just one moment so I could sell my helplessness to Harry. The tears that leaked out of the corners of my eyes weren’t fake. I hunched my shoulders and leaned just a little towards him.

  As expected, he reached for me, willing to offer his comfort. In a snap, I whirled behind him, grabbed his wrist, twisted it, and wrenched it up high behind his back.

  “Let me leave and nobody has to get hurt.”

  Grimm snarled and took a step forward, his eyes seeming to glow, and the kind man of earlier was gone. I jerked up on Harry’s arm, earning a grunt.

  “Grimm, just back off before she twists my damn arm off,” Harry snapped. “We’ll figure all this out. She’s not going to kill anyone.”

  “Positive of that?” Grimm asked. He seemed to be asking for more than Harry’s best guess.

  Harry cocked his head to the side. “Actually, no.”

  Grimm froze, his eyes wide. “You mean you can’t—”

  “Not at all.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Hey! We’re done chit-chatting here,” I interrupted, confused by their weird half-conversation. “Focus on the issue at hand.” I jerked on Harry’s wrist again. “Pun intended.”

  “Ow, damn it! Okay. We’ll do whatever you want,” Harry agreed.

  “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

  We edged down the hallway towards the door, Grimm moving with us. The tension crackled along my nerves. No slip-ups.

  I walked Harry backwards to the front door. If I could get to the car, I could get away. My heart panged at leaving my father lying in the living room, and I silently promised him that I would be back soon.

  “Grab that backpack,” I instructed Harry, loosening my grip just a little for him to lean forward. The Svartalf mask was in it and I’d need that for whatever plan I came up with.

  Grimm’s eyes narrowed and his expression turned severe. “Incoming.” He nodded towards the door behind me.

  “I’m not falling for that.”

  “Shit,” Harry muttered, right before he spun out of the arm hold I had him in and shoved me at Grimm.

  Too late I realized that I had severely underestimated my opponents.

  Grimm drew back his fist as I flew towards him. From the smile on his face, he was going to enjoy himself. His knuckles landed on my jaw.

  The world went black.

  CHAPTER 47

  TRYGG

  I woke up in my boxers with my arms and legs tied to a St. Andrew’s cross, an IV in my left arm, and a black wristband on my right. Eugenia was unconscious and tied to a chair across the room. DG stood at a table next to her. In front of him sat a rune-inscribed ebony bowl into which he poured several liquids.

  “DG?” I blinked a couple of times, coughed, and cleared my throat. “What the hell?”

  “You’re awake,” DG frowned. “I was looking forward to punching you until you roused.

  I laughed. Couldn’t help it. I mean, I knew the guy hated me, but damn. “That’s your bad luck.”

  “Not really. It doesn’t matter if you’re asleep. I can punch you whenever I want now.”

  “Come over here and say that.”

  I jerked against the ropes, stunned when they didn’t snap. I tried again, pitting all the strength I had against the single loop of rope around each wrist.

  Nothing.

  “You’re wasting your time. The ropes are spelled. They turn your strength against you. The harder you fight, the tighter they hold.”

  Sighing, I slumped against the cross and arched a brow at DG, giving what I hoped was my best bored look, while I scrambled to figure out what he was mixing in that bowl. The smell was familiar. I’d tasted a liquid with that same smell the night I’d first met Mordechai. I also drank it every year with other Jotuns under Mordechai’s leadership.

  We all joked about how popular Mordechai’s New Year’s mead was, how not a single person disliked it, how secretive he was with the recipe. Apparently, not secretive enough when it came to his son. But I doubted DG was whipping up a frosty beverage for us, especially in a magic bowl. When he sliced his palm and squeezed blood into the mixture, my stomach turned.

  Fuck. Definitely not mead.

  I scanned our surroundings. There were several pieces of equipment set up in the room—a metal cage suspended from the ceiling, a padded leather bench, a rack, and a medical table. Hanging from the burgundy-colored walls were various paddles, whips, and coils of ropes and on a long table beside the cross, several knives, scalpels, nipple rings, and dildos were arranged almost artfully.

  “What the fuck is this? Some BDSM club?”

  DG shook his head. “I’m not much of a joiner. This is my private lair.”

  “Whatever, Batman. I don’t hear any people or music.”

  The bulging of his jaw was the only hint I'd royally pissed him off.

  “And they won’t hear you either. Nor will any humans stumble down here. Runes are quite useful at keeping out undesirables when you understand how to cast them.”

  Jotuns didn’t normally truck in magic. Brawn and tactics were the tricks of our trade. If we couldn’t solve it with superior warfare or bloody battle then it wasn’t worth our time. That sick feeling in my stomach amplified. DG could lash the hell out of me for years and I’d live to kill him another day, but the right magic could permanently end me.

  “And you know how to cast?”

  DG kept his attention on the bowl, neither confirming nor denying. Did he have someone else feeding him knowledge or doing the heavy lifting for him? Like a Svartalf runemaster?

  “So, you’re working for Eamon now?”

  That caught his attention and he glared. “I work for myself and no one else. Especially after tonight.”

  He didn’t ask me who Eamon was. Guess that answered that.

  “What’s so special about tonight? Other than you tying me up and playing Betty Crocker over there.”

  DG ignored the jibe, instead sticking the end of a syringe in the bowl and drawing liquid into it. With a smirk riding his lips, he crossed the room and injected the syringe into my IV port.

  The logical side of me said to stay calm. I’d consumed whatever this was before, been given it by the man I trusted most in the world—Mordechai Hinterland.

  The side of me that knew DG wanted me dead said fuck that.

  I thrashed wildly against the bonds, muscles straining, pulse hammering in my chest. Didn’t help at all. The rope never budged, just abraded the skin on my wrists and ankles until blood dripped on the floor.

  “What the hell did you just give me?”

  “Nothing you haven’t had before,” DG said.

  My logical side gave me the I-told-you-so look.

  DG tsked at the blood dripping from my wrists. “No need to panic. It’s just a little something that makes you more pliable, open to my suggestions.”

  I gave my logical side the finger as the impact of what he said detonated inside my brain.

  “Mordechai’s punch?”

  DG’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Lucky guess.”

  “What’s in it? How does it work?”

  My captor ignored me this time and walked away, leaving me snarling and furious. Mordechai’s punch made us more open to suggestion? That explained so much, but it also brought into question all the progress that I thought I’d made controlling that restless monster under my skin.

  I should have known that it had all been too easy. A few sessions of guided meditation with Mordechai and suddenly I was cured of three hundred years of rage and struggles to maintain my humanity? I was an idiot. I’d believed everything Mordechai had told me. I drank the Kool-Aid. Literally.

  “Goddamn you. How does it work?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough. You thought dear old Dad was helping you. Fool.” A soft groan from Eugenia drew DG’s attention. “Hello, beautiful. Nice of you to join us.”

  Eugenia strugg
led against her bonds for a moment then sighed. “Spelled ropes?”

  “Smart, too.” DG grinned at her. “Hello, Mrs. Ullman. Pleasure to meet you. Can’t wait to chat about Bryn with you.”

  Eugenia inclined her head, but said nothing. DG was going to have a helluva time getting anything out of her. She was the epitome of stoic—eyes blank, lips a straight line, breaths barely lifting her chest. Her husband was dead. She wasn’t about to deliver the same fate to her daughter. From what I knew about DG, he would take great pleasure in trying to break her, though.

  “I offered your daughter a place by my side, but she chose that animal instead.” DG jerked his head toward me.

  “Bryn always did have excellent taste in men.” Eugenia was deadpan.

  “Funny.” DG crouched down in front of her, harsh gaze fixed on her face. “Here’s the thing...if she’d picked me, we wouldn’t be here right now. I protect what’s mine, especially when we’re talking about a princess of both Asgard and Svartalfheim.”

  His words punched me in the gut and I barely held back my gasp. How the hell had he figured out who Bryn was? I clenched my jaw. When I got loose from this cross, he was a dead man.

  “My daughter protects herself. She will never be some man’s property, least of all a weak little boy like you.”

  DG’s fists and jaw clenched, but before he could strike her, the door opened and Naoko walked in.

  “Naoko.” Eugenia snarled.

  “Eugenia.” Naoko strolled across the room and draped herself against DG’s side.

  Eugenia’s eyes sparked, furious. “What knowledge have you shared, betrayer of the light?”

  “Wouldn’t you love to know?” Naoko taunted her.

  DG sank his fingers into Naoko’s hair and yanked her head back viciously, forcing her to look up into his eyes. “As entertaining as a little cat fight between you two would be, I have torturing to do. What do you want, Naoko?”

  “Eamon has requested an update on the princess’s whereabouts.” Naoko whimpered, blinking rapidly. DG pulled harder and she grimaced.

  “You were to keep him busy, showing him how we identified her.” He twisted his hand in her hair and jerked her head back viciously, causing tears to stream down her cheeks.

  As much as it turned my stomach to see any woman treated that way, I couldn’t help but feel that Naoko had brought it on herself.

  I leaned forward against the ropes. “Why don’t you share with the class, Naoko?”

  DG sipped a tear from Naoko’s cheek and murmured, “Go ahead.”

  “Magic.”

  “No shit.” I glared at her, wishing I could choke the answers I wanted from her deceitful throat myself. “How?”

  Her gaze flicked to Eugenia and she smiled slyly. “The entry tunnel into the club has a glamour detection spell on it.”

  “Your betrayal knows no bounds,” Eugenia shook her head.

  DG shoved Naoko away. “Find another way to keep Eamon and his men entertained. I need time to find out where his princess is hiding.”

  “Of course.” Naoko brushed the tears from her cheeks and smoothed her hands through her hair. “One royal princess in exchange for the support of the Svartalf Bani…we wouldn’t want to lose a trade like that.”

  She swished her way out of the room, slamming the door behind her. The bang echoed in the room as Eugenia and I stared at each other. In all my three hundred years, I’d never felt this helpless. From the look in her eyes, I’d say she felt the same.

  DG clapped his hands, startling both of us. He trailed his finger down Eugenia’s cheek. “Normally, I’d have you stripped and on the cross instead of Mac. I prefer to work on women. Your flesh is so soft and marks so beautifully. But, as you heard, Eamon is impatient to get his hands on your daughter. I can’t spare the time to play with you. I have a feeling it would take several fun-filled days to break you. Later, we’ll get to know each other better.”

  I jerked against the ropes, drawing DG’s attention to me. “Leave her alone, asshole. Break out the whips and let’s get this party started.”

  DG laughed. “You still don’t get it do you?”

  “I know that you’re never going to get Bryn’s location out of me. You can torture me all you want.”

  Because I had no idea where Bryn was. As long as he thought I knew, though, he wouldn’t turn his attentions to her mother. Maybe I could hold out long enough for Grimm and Harry to figure out where we were and come riding in on white horses. That was a pretty big maybe and I wasn’t holding my breath. To my knowledge, they’d been focusing their investigation on Mordechai, not his son.

  I can’t believe I didn’t peg DG’s involvement in all this. It’s always the people closest to you who try to kill you. And because I was a shitty detective, I’d meet my end in the dungeon of the sadistic asshole. Fan-fucking-tastic.

  DG stalked over to stand in front of me. “It’s not about the torture, Mac. It’s about the delicious application of pain.” He cupped the back of my neck and pressed our foreheads together. “You think you can resist me, but you can’t. You’re going to tell me exactly what I want to know.”

  The monster under my skin stirred and snarled then cocked its head. A whisper somewhere in the back of my head got a little louder.

  “Obey,” it hissed.

  “Master,” it crooned.

  A hulking form separated from the shadows on the far side of the berserker’s cage and stood behind the monster. Ice-cold breath puffed from its lips.

  “Hamingja?” I gasped, a shock of fear racing up my spine. “No.”

  “Yes.” DG’s lips curled into a feral smile.

  CHAPTER 48

  BRYN

  I woke up in the middle of what looked like a hotel room bed. A phone sat beside it and my first instinct was to call for help, but I had no idea where I was or who I’d even call.

  “I still can’t believe you hit her,” a voice reached me from outside the bedroom. Harry’s?

  “It was the most expedient solution.” Grimm sounded bored.

  “But not the proper one. You could have really hurt her. If you wanted her knocked out, you should have told me and let me handle it safely.” Harry’s voice rose.

  “He cares about her pain. I don’t.”

  He who? I held my breath and listened closer.

  “I truly loathe you sometimes, Grimm.”

  “But not always.” Grimm’s tone was a taunting purr, almost flirtatious. “You should go check the girl. She’s not breathing.”

  “Oh, shit!” Harry gasped.

  The sound of boots running across the room reached me right before Harry burst through the door.

  “You need to let me leave here. Now,” I said, sitting up. “Or I’ll make you regret it.”

  Knocking at the outer door interrupted whatever Harry was about to say. He paused and listened. When the knocking came again, louder this time, he growled and stomped into the other room. I slid off the bed and followed, determined to walk right through the door the minute it opened.

  “Cool your jets,” Harry called out. He shot a glare at Grimm, who was sitting on a couch with his feet up. “You couldn’t bloody answer?”

  “You were already up.”

  Harry growled again and flung the door open. “Get in here and stop that bloody pounding.”

  “Dude, chill. I thought you didn’t hear me or something.”

  “Jace.” I snarled at Dezi’s boyfriend and he gave me a little wave.

  “Hey, Bryn.”

  I didn’t return the wave, just glared at him as he walked over to stand in front of me.

  “So, umm...in case there was any doubt, I’m a berserker.”

  He gave me jazz hands. I gave him a fist in the gut.

  “Ow.”

  I glared at him, knowing I hadn’t hit him hard enough to put any strain on that wall of abs he was packing.

  “Where’s Dezi?”

  “She’s in another room. If things go tits up, I don’
t want them to find her here. She needs to be able to walk away from this.”

  Worry was written all over his face and my irritation lessened slightly. Regardless of what I thought about the man right now, I couldn’t deny that he loved her.

  “Do we know where my mom and Trygg are?”

  “We have eyes on Mordechai,” Harry said, “but he’s lingering over a late dinner and drink with his girlfriend and some business associates. He hasn’t even looked at his phone, let alone ordered anyone to attack you or your parents.”

  “So, that’s a no.”

  “No.” Harry sighed.

  “I think I know where to start looking, but I’m not telling you unless you agree to let me come with you.”

  Grimm snorted.

  That guy was really starting to irritate me. “What is up with you? One minute you’re nice, the next you’re punching me in the face.”

  “Punching you in the face?” Jace looked horrified. He grabbed my chin and turned my head. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! Does it hurt?”

  I paused and took stock of my aches and pains. “Yeah, but I can live with it. I’m not going to take any pain medica—”

  Intense heat and a tingling sensation spread from where Jace gripped my chin. I glanced down and his hand was glowing.

  “What—”

  Jace pushed his fingers over my mouth and had the audacity to grin when I growled at him for it.

  “Berserkers have different abilities. Mine is healing.” He released my jaw. “The scrapes on your hands and knees are good now, too.”

  “How did you even know I had those?” I retook inventory. He was right. I had zero pain left in my body.

  “Glad your booboo is all better, but our people are probably being tortured for your location as we speak,” Grimm interjected.

  A punch to the gut would have been kinder, but I couldn’t argue. “Your word, Grimm. I come with you.”

  “Sure.” That’s what his lips said.

  His face and aura said something else entirely. He was never going to let me come with them. I could either waste my time arguing with him or I could tell him what he needed to know and figure out a way to tag along on my own.