While they were studying the sword, Howard Rowan, the chief curator at the museum, came into the gallery. He let out a surprised sound when he saw the couple and walked directly to them.
“Miss Graves! Captain Thorvald!” He smiled broadly. “I am so glad to see you. I can’t thank you enough for recovering this piece. It would have been a terrible tragedy if the thieves had been allowed to keep it.” He sobered. “I’m… I’m so very sorry about your team, Captain Thorvald.”
Erik offered a handshake, which the other man accepted. “Thank you. They will be sorely missed. They were good men.”
“It just such a terrible thing that the thieves destroyed the chieftain’s remains. I will never understand what would make someone do such horrible things.”
Erik and Nika looked at each other, remembering well that the body in the boat had not been as dead as people believed. He spoke for them both. “Yes, it’s too bad. It’s hard to understand why people do the things they do. There’s so much history that has been lost because of thieves and vandals.”
Rowan turned to Nika. “Speaking of things we’ve lost, we’ll be missing you when you leave. A good assistant curator is hard to find, but Central City’s loss is the Royal Museum of Stockholm’s gain.”
She smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Rowan. It was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up. I hope you understand.”
Through a complex web of pulled strings, many of them originating with Erik’s superiors in Stockholm, Nika had been hired to replace Astrid as curator. Her special assignment would be traveling with the Rune Sword and boat burial artifacts. Once she reached Sweden, she would be taking up where her predecessor had left off, in more ways than one. Astrid had been Erik’s wife. Nika couldn’t pretend that the irony didn’t amuse her.
Rowan smiled. “I would be surprised if you didn’t accept their offer, all things considered.” He gave Erik a significant glance. “Have either of you seen Mr. Sigurd?”
“Who’s Mr. Sigurd?”
“He came from Stockholm to help move the exhibit and confirm that the sword you retrieved is genuine. He was just here…”
She could feel Erik tense beside her. “I wasn’t told that any Mr. Sigurd was being sent,” he said. “How strange.”
The curator shrugged. “Just an oversight, I’m sure. He fully verified the authenticity of the sword, which was good news. Well, must go... paperwork is never finished, it seems. Good day to you both.”
When they were alone again, Nika spoke. “What was that all about? Who’s Sigurd?”
“I have no idea. That’s why I’m concerned.” He looked at her grimly. “Remember Astrid’s last name?”
“Sigurdsdottir...” Realization dawned. “Oh.”
“Yes. Sigurdsdottir. Sigurd’s daughter. It might just be a coincidence, but… I don’t believe in coincidences.” He shook his head. “This cannot be good.”
She frowned. “Did you know her father?”
“We never met.”
Nika wasn’t sure she believed him. “That’s odd, considering the two of you were married for, what, eight hundred years or so?”
“He was… absent.”
“He couldn’t even be bothered to see his own daughter’s wedding?”
“There were reasons.” He looked at her, and there were storms in his eyes. “Let’s get out of here.”
They left the museum at a quick pace. She remembered another time when he had walked so quickly and purposefully out of a gallery, and the similarity gave her pause. He was looking around as they walked, and her new Draugr senses told her that he was reaching out with vampire abilities of his own, trying to locate any immortal newcomers.
“He’s a Draugr, too?” She already knew the answer. He wouldn’t have been trying to find another Draugr’s energy signature otherwise.
“I don’t know. I just don’t want to take the chance.”
Chapter Two
They went to the Swedish consulate in Central City, where his military credentials bought them no-questions-asked admittance. He held Nika’s hand tightly as he guided her through the gate and into the building. The architecture was Scandinavian in design, all clean lines and bright light, with a receptionist desk that looked straight from Ikea standing just inside the front door.
“God eftermiddag,” the woman behind the desk greeted with a friendly smile. “Good afternoon. How may I help you?”
Erik produced his ID once more. “Captain Thorvald to see the Consul.”
The Swedish woman turned to Nika. “And your identification, miss?”
Nika offered her driver’s license. She hadn’t thought to put her passport into her purse. “Nika Graves,” she said. “I’m an American citizen.”
The woman smiled. “Please, just a moment.”
Erik looked around while the receptionist made a telephone call. Nika watched his eyes as they took in the door, the side entrances, and examined all of the people coming and going. She knew that he was attentive to every detail around him, always ready to act if necessary. It was part of his special forces training, but she suspected that his vigilance was an innate part of his warrior’s soul.
The woman at the desk hung up the phone. “Consul Lindstrom will see you now. His office is – ”
“I know the way.”
They were given back their documents, and Erik took her through a side door that led to a stairwell. They climbed halfway up when he stopped and turned to her.
“Consul Lindstrom is also one of the Draugr. In fact, he’s one of the few male Valtaeigr. He will recognize you as a sister. Be prepared for that.”
“Valtaeigr means ‘hawk’s ground,’ like the place on a falconer’s arm where the hawk lands.”
He nodded. “Yes. Why?”
“Why are we called that?”
“This is a strange time to ask.”
“There are still a lot of things we don’t know, and if he’s Valtaeigr, I need to know what he might expect me to know. Right?”
Erik began leading her up the stairs again. “Hawks are known for their vision, for seeing everything on the ground. The falconer depends on his hawks to help him see small game, like rabbits and birds. So it is with the gods.
“The Draugr are the gods’ eyes. In addition to keeping them alive, we help them to see their mortal enemies. The Valtaeigr are the wise ones, and you direct the Draugr. We are the hawks, the Valtaeigr are the falconers, and the gods are our keepers.”
She smiled. “I like the idea of you being on my arm.”
Erik smirked. “Does that make me arm candy?”
“If the shoe fits…” She looked up at his as he led the way. “How do the Valtaeigr know how to direct the Draugr?”
“They get visions,” he answered. “The gods make their wishes known that way.”
“Then why don’t the gods speak to me?”
“You are melded with Ithunn, and she certainly spoke to you when we battled Hakon.” He put his hand on the doorknob at the next landing. “As for the rest? You just haven’t been introduced to them personally. They will speak to you in time.” He gave her a naughty smile. “I seem to recall Vidar having a few things to say through me to Ithunn within you, if body language counts.”
She laughed. “Oh, it counts. It counts a great deal. Is Lindstrom bonded with a god?”
He nodded. “He is one with Forseti, the god of justice, peace, and truth. He will know it if you lie to him.”
“You should be careful, then.”
Erik stopped short and looked at her. “What does that mean?”
“It means that you should be careful not to lie to him,” she answered evenly. “You’re not known for being one hundred percent forthcoming.”
“I have never lied to you.”
“You’ve never really told me the whole truth on anything, either.” She was surprised by the sudden resentment and irritation she was feeling.
He searched her face, and she could almost feel that he was reading her. The muscle in his
jaw twitched. “I have never withheld any information from you that you needed to know.”
“So I’m being kept on a need to know basis?” She laughed, but it was an angry sound. “Very nice. I guess that’s what I get for being with a special operator.”
His voice was flat and hard. “I brought you here to share information with you. No, I don’t tell you everything. Do you tell me everything about you? Don’t play the victim. All I know from you is from your dossier. I have more reason to feel slighted than you.”
He opened the door and held it for her, his body stiff.
“And not telling everything is not the same as lying. You have no right to accuse me of such things. This is a very strange time to start an argument.” He glanced down the stairs as if he was looking for someone to blame for the abrupt shift in her mood. He gestured through the door. “After you, my lady.”
She walked through, and he followed her, closing the door quietly behind them. They were in a corridor with highly-polished floors and white walls, hung with black and white photographs showing scenery in Sweden. One of the photos stood out to her immediately.
It showed a tiny house high on a hill. The photographer had been standing at the base of the hill, shooting upward, and the building loomed menacingly in the image.
Nika pointed at the photograph. “What is this?”
Erik looked and grumbled. “It appears to be a house.”
“You don’t recognize it? It seems… familiar.”
He continued walking. “I recognize it.”
“More secrets?’’
He looked angry. “It is an old fishing cottage near the sea. There are hundreds of them.”
“So you don’t know this one in particular?” She didn’t know why, but it felt important. Something in her head was buzzing.
He did not reply. Instead he opened a door and held it for her. She stepped through.
The room beyond was an elegantly furnished office with furniture of Scandinavian design. A young man with a shock of dark hair rose as soon as they came in, standing so rapidly that he nearly knocked over his mug of tea.
Nika looked at him and felt a shock run through her, emanating from the goddess melded with her soul. They stared at one another for a moment, both of them electrified, him with excitement, her with dread.
Erik closed the door. “This is Johan,” he said. “He is melded with Bragi.”Johan put out his hand and took Nika’s, then brought her knuckles to his lips for a reverent and surprisingly passionate kiss. He looked into her eyes, and she realized that she had forgotten to breathe. Her head was swimming. Inside her soul, the part that was Ithunn began to shake.
Erik spoke again, his voice redolent with displeasure.
“Bragi is consort to Ithunn. In a manner of speaking, he is your husband.”
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About The Author
Amelia Wilson has dedicated her life to writing. She is a firm believer in the power of love to conquer all, and her works reflect this belief. Her paranormal romances are known for their love stories, action and suspense. She creates immersive worlds that are rich in detail and full of emotion.
Amelia can be contacted at her Facebook page or through her newsletter.
http://www.ameliawilsonauthor.com/
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Preview of Love Beyond The Wall
Love Beyond the Wall
A Rizer Wolfpack Series Book 1
By:
Amelia Wilson
CHAPTER ONE
Cara couldn’t sleep.
How could she? In the morning, she would be forced into a marriage with Aldrich. It didn’t matter that she didn’t want to marry him. Cara had no other alternative. Not anymore.
She could still remember what it was like before the town had walls built over ten feet high surrounding it. There were mountains in the distance, beautiful sunsets. Back then Cara thought she’d climb those mountains. She thought she would escape her father and leave all the ugliness behind.
People would talk about the big cities beyond the mountains. Cities that welcomed all walks of people, even the new race of people who changed their shape. These big cities still had the kind of things that Cara’s mother used to talk about. Taxi cabs, television, and phones that made communication possible across great distances.
The cities who did not fight against the shifters were allowed to carry on as they were. People like Cara’s family, who rejected the new race were pushed out of the established communities and forced to build new towns, and ways of surviving without any contact with the Shifter accepting cities.
Eventually war broke out among the shifter cities. At least that was what Cara heard. People left the cities, and so did the shifters. The order of the world forever changed.
Cara thought that perhaps the shifters were misunderstood by the people of her town. She wanted to believe that the world would eventually return to the kind of order it once held. She wanted to believe that the shifters were good.
Then they came.
The creatures who walked like men but were not men at all. They were monsters, wild beasts. Every man attacked by them died. Their bodies were brought back in pieces.
It wasn’t long after the hunting party was slaughtered that the wall was built. At first it was only five feet high. When more hunters were killed outside the wall, the townspeople added to the wall. It grew higher every year, cutting out more and more light from the people inside.
For seven years Cara, and most of the people of Aldrich Town, were trapped behind the walls. It was a cage, and it was only going to get smaller for Cara when she married Aldrich.
The man was in his forties, while Cara was not even twenty years old yet. Cara knew him to be a cruel man, just like her father.
If it wasn’t for Cara’s uncle, Mortimer, she might not know that there were men who were kind.
The men of the town angered easily. Many of them took out their frustration on anyone weaker than they were. When this happened, it was up to Aldrich if the person causing trouble got to stay, or was pushed outside the wall to be killed by the shifters.
All matters were taken to Aldrich. When Cara once asked her uncle why Aldrich was in charge he said, “He owns the food. Aldrich owns the weapons. He owns the wall. Aldrich owns the people of his town because without him they starve, are defenseless, and die.”
When Cara’s father took to beating her, the neighbors called in Aldrich. Cara was thirteen years old when he came to her house that night to answer the complaint. He arrived with a rope, ready to tie up her father because he was not interested in justice so much as he was interested in not being bothered.
When he saw Cara, he entered the home and sat down at the dinner table with Cara’s father. He promised to spare him if he kept her untouched by other men.
A virgin.
Aldrich said he would return for her when she was ripe.
Cara didn’t understand most of what he’d said, but she knew she
didn’t like how he looked at her. She didn’t like the way Aldrich would follow her home from the schoolhouse after that.
She was relieved when Aldrich married Paulina. Cara thought that since he’d married, Aldrich had forgotten her. Cara believed she was free of him.
Up until two days prior, Cara believed that she would be like every other young woman in town and choose who to date and who to marry. When Aldrich came knocking, Cara knew she’d been mistaken. Aldrich hadn’t forgotten her. Not at all.
Her father opened the door for Aldrich. When Cara saw him her body froze with fear. There was a rumor that Paulina died. Cara chose to believe it wasn’t true. After all, Paulina was only twenty-three. How could she die so young?
Aldrich married Paulina when she was nineteen. Cara heard people say that Aldrich never let Paulina leave his house. Since Cara’s father rarely allowed Cara to leave without an escort, she thought it must be the same kind of restrictions for Paulina.
Once though, when she passed by Aldrich’s house on her way to work, Cara saw her. Paulina was standing in the window glaring out at the light as though she’d been in darkness for so long she couldn’t adjust. She was bruised, too skinny, and she was crying.
Since Aldrich was the only kind of law in Aldrich Town, Cara felt helpless to do anything for Paulina. Cara remembered that look of desperation on Paulina’s face, it wasn’t a sight she would ever forget.
Aldrich entered Cara’s home. Cara could only think of the terror on Paulina’s face. She stood, backing away from the table. Aldrich’s brown eyes were so dark they were nearly black as they followed every move Cara made.
Cara’s hands were shaking. She fisted them. Cara didn’t like the pleased look on Aldrich’s face when he saw the clear sign of fear. Narrowing her eyes, she dared to meet his gaze.
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