Chapter Thirty-Six
Every morning, Astrid returned to Perchta’s house to continue taking the potion she brewed, leaving Cigarette Man tied up at home with a forest ranger standing guard. Until the supernatural threat at play was neutralized, Johanna and her team would hold off on making official arrests. The further away from town they could keep this charmed poacher and others like him, the better, especially before they understood the full scope of Heldin’s plans.
Perchta found Oskar, rattled but otherwise unscathed. The poor fox recalled the uncanny feeling of being watched.
Knowing what they knew now, he likely had been, which none of them felt particularly great about. Johanna and her colleagues set up trail cameras throughout the forest, but only time would tell if they caught anything on them. It was like finding five pesky needles in a forest-sized haystack.
With each new day, the ice magic that coalesced in Astrid’s veins grew, her resistance to frigid climes strengthening. Layers were shed. First her hat and mittens, then her coat. Whittling down to a loose-knit sweater, so that when the wind reached through the threads with its glacial touch, she felt none of its sting. Just a cool and welcome caress.
The advanced magic that seemed so out of reach before was clicking. It was messy and crude and the furthest thing from masterful, but Astrid was grasping the spell work, aided greatly by the grimoires and Perchta’s instruction.
On one such morning, outside Perchta’s home, she was forming a jagged ice spear between outstretched hands, trying to smooth its edges, when a shadow darkened the corner of her eye. A shiver born of instinct, rather than fear or cold, ran through her body, every nerve ending sparked, alert and poised for action.
With Mutter and Oskar out patrolling the forest boundary, refortifying the containment spell, Astrid was completely alone.
If Heldin and her minions dared sneak up on her...
Rotating her hands, the spear spun, and with the snap of the wrist, she hurled it at the figure.
But as she turned into the throw, a long, clawed hand batted the projectile away, shattering the deadly icicle into pieces against the gargantuan tree Perchta called home, and it was then that she saw who joined her.
“Excellent shot, Liebling.” Genuine mirth rumbled beneath the thundering bellow of Gudarīks’s voice, the first in the days since they learned of Heldin’s return.
Her hands flew to her temples. “Sorry!”
“I should’ve announced myself.” He slunk toward her on all fours, a twinkle in his eye. “A difficult habit to shake.”
Something about this low approach set off all the alarm bells in Astrid’s body. Just as she iced over the ground between them, he lunged, swooping her up into his arms. Hooves scrabbled on ice, and she lurched forward, landing on top of him with a grunt.
Gudarīks’s whole body shook beneath her, his great antlered head tipped back in an avalanche of laughter. It stunned her into silence. Seeing him like this, so open and relaxed, felt sacred.
What beautiful music his joy made.
“Clever Hexe.” His arms looped around her waist. “I can feel your power, and it’s already grown twentyfold. You’ve always been a force of nature, but what a fearsome creature you’ll become when this is all said and done. You’re my match in every way.”
She rested her chin within the fold of her arms on his chest. “Your match,” she repeated. It wasn’t a question, but she marveled at the thought that he’d find her power noteworthy.
His head lulled languidly to the side, a roaming hand slipping beneath her sweater, and he met her gaze with a blazing heat that reduced her to ice melt. “Undoubtedly.”
She was a puddle in his arms.
That can’t be good for my health as a Winter Hexe .
An odd buzzing sound snagged Gudarīks’s attention away from Astrid’s diligent training. It sounded like a bee, but this was a season too early. The critters should be nestled within their hives, sleeping off the cold.
Tilting his head up, he inhaled deeply.
Humans. But familiar, friendly ones.
“What is it?”
“Your friends must be setting up their traps,” he said. “Would you like to join them?”
Astrid nodded, the whirlwind of snow she’d summoned settling to the ground. “I could use a break.”
It was just Johanna and Suri at the site when they arrived—the former setting trip lines between the trees, the latter tinkering with a contraption. Both paused to wave as they approached.
“Is that the drone?” Astrid crouched beside Suri, pointing to the strange device. It looked like a giant spider but was missing half of its legs.
“Ever seen one?”
“From a distance, but never up close.”
The next comment was directed to him. “It flies, so don’t freak out.” Suri held up an oddly shaped black brick. “And this is the remote control I use to direct it.” They pressed something on the device and the four blades on top began to spin. Despite the heads-up, he tensed as it lifted off the ground, emitting that relentless buzzing sound he heard earlier. Hunter’s instinct sparked the desire to swat it out of the air, but he restrained himself.
Fascinating .
As it zipped through the air, Suri pointed at the two canisters rigged to the underside, then at their remote. “This button tells it to release the bear spray—which will give a large group a very bad time, as long as none of our people are on-site, of course. And this one tells it to release the regular pepper spray—better for a targeted approach.”
Gudarīks tracked the buzzing machine’s course, head jerking this way and that, following its every movement. At one point, it almost collided with a crow, circling in the sky overhead, the poor bird unused to having to contend with such an obstacle.
For all the grievous moral failings of some humans, their species’ grasp on innovation was quite breathtaking. It both amazed and baffled Gudarīks how they could be so abysmally oblivious to the natural world and yet so intimately attuned with it. Traditional magic as good as died out amongst the humans, but they discovered a new sort to call their own.
“What’s your strategy with this?” he asked, too entranced to look away.
“We’ll stake out the area, but when the poachers and the rest of the Wiederg?nger pop into existence, I’ll fly this baby into the mix and blast them. Any who try to run off will fall over the trip wire, and Johanna and her team will swoop in with zip ties, but the rest is up to you. She can hand them over to the Polizei, which would raise some awkward questions as far as the two-thousand-year-old humans are concerned—dunno if ‘severely out-of-touch with reality cult members’ suffices as a cover story. Or you can have a spicy snack.”
Gudarīks cringed. Last decade, he found out the hard way that bear spray was not a tasty accoutrement when he took a bite out of a camper and punctured the aerosol can hiding in their pocket. It was an embarrassing and traumatic experience however, so he did not share that story with the group.
“The other rangers are okay with murder?” Astrid asked, sounding skeptical.
“I don’t know actually.” Suri called out to their spouse, “Johanna, how do your colleagues feel about murdering their enemies?”
Brushing off her hands, Johanna rose, knees creaking. “No interest in participating, but after the taste of evil they saw with the wolves, they’ll turn a blind eye.”
Gudarīks studied the forest ranger for signs of discomfort, disgust, anything that would indicate her true opinions. Could she really stomach the slaughter of others, evil as they were? It was one thing to say it, another to actively encourage it.
But Johanna’s expression was hard, immovable. One look into her eyes, into those two glittering, dark coals, and the thirst for retribution was unmistakable. If the other forest rangers looked equally as fierce, he just might believe they could handle it. “Other than body disposal, what do you need from Astrid and I? It sounds like you have everything else covered.”
“It’s hardly a foolproof plan,” Suri replied, landing the drone. “There’s always the chance we miss folks or the drone malfunctions or our resurrected adversaries are pepper spray resistant. Whatever the case may be, we need you to do what you do best.”
“General murder and mayhem?” Astrid offered with a smirk. She didn’t have claws, but her nails were long and sharp as she tapped them against her folded arms.
“You’re doing us squeamish humans a favor, believe me.” Suri winked. “Besides, I’ve a hunch you’ll enjoy it far more.”
A cold, dark feeling hollowed him out. Under normal circumstances, he’d wholeheartedly agree and thrill in the anticipation of a challenging hunt.
“It’s more complicated than that...” Astrid trailed, glancing in his direction.
Suri furrowed their brow.
“I feel responsible for my old village,” Gudarīks explained. “I didn’t take their lives lightly the first time, and while I won’t hesitate to take them a second time, it won’t be the gleeful undertaking you imagine. At least not for me.”
“I’m sorry, Gudarīks.” Suri hung their head, toeing a clump of snow. “That was insensitive of me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive. I just wanted to be clear on that point.” For better or worse, at least this time he wouldn’t be alone in the burden. The group seemed to agree that a bit of ruthlessness was necessary in the face of evil, and if that was true now, maybe it was true two thousand years ago.
All the ferocity in Johanna shifted to something soft and understanding, and for the first time, he thought she might see him as more than a monster to fear. “I told the other forest rangers about you,” she said. “They need time to brace themselves, since we’ll be working together on this. They’ve no reason to think I’m lying about you, but you’re not real to them yet, and I think seeing you for the first time will be a shock.”
His existence was never meant to be a secret, but considering the usual circumstances, all who saw him perished. That didn’t lend itself to story-making. But soon there’d be no room for doubt, and once again he’d be working alongside humans to protect them from a greater evil.
It was bittersweet.