Chapter 3
CHAPTER
THREE
Soul-debt or not, Sylvara Valfreyja was tired of doing Loki’s bidding. The guy was a major pain in the ass, but not more than the only blond vampire in existence, the aggravating draugr, Rolf of the Night Bloode.
She thought for sure she had him this time. Alas, when she finished slicing through his neck, she found only a few drops of his bloode spattered to the floor, his neck healing while she watched. He’d barely moved out of the way.
Impressive speed. She needed to spar with him again to more accurately assess his battle skills. Though vampires were the fastest and strongest of all the magir—discounting gargoyles—blood-drinkers had levels of power.
Rolf was off the charts, like the rest of his weird little clan.
“Sylvara! How could you?” Loki grinned, his shock not exactly believable.
The goddess with them scowled. “So much for the laws of hospitality.”
Sylvara shrugged, her ax still hungry.
Unfortunately, the vampire who’d accompanied Rolf through the portal didn’t look amused anymore.
All vampires were male, had dark hair, sharp reflexes and fangs, and hated everyone.
This one was more handsome than many she’d seen.
The leader, the patriarch, vibrated with power.
If rumor served, once he acquired the six Bloode Stones, he could command all the vampires in the world to do his bidding.
Something Loki had ordered her to stop from happening, despite his appearance of mutual aid to the contrary.
Hecate, the patron deity of the Night Bloode, goddess of witches, ghosts, and death, was a liminal goddess. She controlled the crossroads to many planes. No one intelligent would get on her bad side. Thus, Loki planned to use Sylvara to do his dirty work.
She wondered if he’d thought it through. Did he really think the goddess wouldn’t know he’d been in on it from the beginning to deny the Bloode Stones to her pet, Varu?
“I can’t believe you nicked me.” Rolf stared at her in wonder.
Another irritation with which she’d been plagued.
“Are you going to cry now?” With her ax, she blocked the strike at her neck from Varu, shocked at how fast he’d moved. “Problem, strigoi?”
Rolf blinked. “She blocked you, dude.” He went down on his knees and clasped his hands, staring up at Sylvara. “Marry me.”
She groaned.
Varu relaxed. “See that you don’t bring death upon your own head, valkyrie. Rolf belongs to me.”
“But my heart belongs to her,” Rolf said, batting his eyelashes.
She’d forgotten how annoying the draugr could be.
Their kind were known as the tricksters of the vampire world.
Loki and Rolf were on a first name basis, though she didn’t believe Rolf to be his son.
They did have a connection, though. And that worried her, because she’d been ordered to work with Rolf to retrieve the final Bloode Stone.
Hecate motioned to a tall, good-looking white-haired guy who suddenly appeared by her side. Her assistant was a magic user of incredible power. “Mormo, do something about Rolf’s stench, would you?”
He waved his hand, and Rolf magically cleaned up. Without the blood and guts covering him, he looked fairly normal.
Until he stood, still smiling, resembling the mad priests dedicated to Hel’s shrine in the Shore of Corpses.
With that blond hair, Rolf could pass for one of her Viking kindred, many times removed. But those fangs and flashes of red in his eyes screamed vampire.
He continued to make lovey-dovey eyes at her.
“Cut it out.”
His grin widened.
She turned to Hecate. “You wanted us here. We’re here.” At the sudden pregnant silence laced with disapproval, she gave a slight bow of her head. “At your disposal, great Maiden, Mother, and Crone.”
Mormo huffed. “Better. Respect my mistress, young valkyrie. Do not forget again.”
Like I could with all the repressive dickheads ruining my day. She nodded.
Mormo turned to Hecate and bowed. “I need to talk to Onvyr. I sent him to a pocket realm to check in on rumors of the stone’s new location.” He turned to Varu. “Fara will be back shortly. She said to wait for her.”
Varu nodded, his eyes dark, but Sylvara swore she saw affection flash on his face. “I will.”
Mormo vanished.
Leaving Sylvara with two deities, Varu, and that idiot, Rolf, in the middle of a well-appointed basement. A large television and myriad gaming devices took up one wall, while a sectional sofa and chairs centered around a coffee table faced the entertainment system.
On one cushion, a small gray cat curled up, blinking up at them with lazy satisfaction.
Hecate glanced at it and frowned. “Not you. Not today. Go play with Orion.”
The cat let out a sniff, stood, and stretched, arching its little back. Then it grew wings and flew out of the room.
“Interesting company you’re keeping, Hecate.” Loki stroked his golden hair, his mismatched blue and gold eyes sparkling with mischief. “But enough about demons.”
The cat was a demon? She frowned, saw Varu frowning as well, and thought that perhaps Hecate didn’t share with the rest of the class, though Rolf didn’t seem surprised.
“It’s time to find Jormungandr,” Loki added.
Jormungandr, also known as a harbinger of the end of the world, the World Serpent, oh, and Loki’s son.
Hecate studied him. “You mentioned that you think he has the last Bloode Stone, but my reports say it’s never been in Norse lands.”
“What reports?”
“The ones from our sources around the world.”
Loki sniffed. “Please tell me you aren’t listening to the Vanargard. They lie.” He shot Rolf a knowing look.
“Really?” Rolf snorted. “My people lie well enough that no one can tell when we aren’t. But they wouldn’t lie to Hecate.” He leaned closer to the god of trickery. “Just think, Loki. If we have all the Bloode Stones, we could take over the world! Think of all the chaos that would cause.”
Loki paused. “Well, you do make a good point. Where should we start our grand plans for destruction?” He perked up. “Seattle it is!”