Page 43
“Give me any weapon you have.”
He sighed, and cold metal met my palm. I closed my fingers around the hilt of a small knife and, crouching, I set the crystal on the ground at my feet. With my palm splayed, I bared the scars of the former runes I’d carved into it, hoping the new runes would stand out against the scarred and imperfect skin.
The rune for victory was most fitting, since Drak had craved dominance and victory. So intending to use this rune, I pressed the steel against my skin until it broke the surface. Blood pooled at the center of my palm, and I seethed as I dragged the knife into the shape of Tiwaz, which also represented leadership, to relate to the moment he forged the power to overthrow the king and become Vylheim’s leader.
With that done, I swallowed the pain and gathered the courage to continue with the next rune, combining my next best guess. “Hagalaz,” I whispered as I drew the shape over the other rune. Since Hagalaz was a form of change, I thought it represented the change in Drak’s life from alive to undead. From a soul-bearing human to a soulless vampire.
I let the blood drip onto the floor and the crystal at the center of the cell, rolling over the heel of my palm. Each drop splashed onto the ground near my feet, with a few clinging to his soul.
“I have to say,” Soren’s voice cut through my daze around the drip, dripping blood. “This is kind of brutal.”
“It worked before,” I snapped, the pain inspiring frustration, or maybe it was the failure that upset me the most. “What the fuck is wrong? Why isn’t it working?”
“I told you—”
Before he could finish that, I spun around and glared at him, my fists tightening and pushing more blood out. The slick liquid felt slippery and warm beneath my fingers, but I ignored the stinging and jabbed a finger at him. “Don’t say it.” Tears sprang to the corners of my eyes. Why didn’t this work? Was it the runes? The location?
“Hey, hey,” he said, his voice oddly soft. “Don’t cry, babe.” I frowned at him, and he threw up his hands in surrender. “It’s not a personal thing; I call everyone that, except for vampires and my dad, for obvious reasons. I’m not about to steal Drak’s girl, I’m just saying, you did nothing wrong. There’s not a sliver of a soul anywhere near Mara’s Keep, because if there were, I’d have it in my collection.”
I blinked back the tears and tried to focus on him through the blur. “Your collection?”
He sighed. “I take it you want to see if any are Drak’s pieces? Because why shouldn’t we waste more time while my father rots in a cell and you bleed out all over the place?” He flicked his hand toward the crystal, now red with my blood. “How about you just believe me when I say I can name every single piece of soul I have. I know which vampire they came from because I was there when they turned. None of them belong to Drak.”
I closed my eyes, letting my eyelids be the barrier against my tears, unsure if they were for Axel, my throbbing palm, or the sheer exasperation of forcing my way into this dreadful castle only to discover nothing.
“Listen,” his soft voice only made my tears pulse harder. He reminded me too much of Drak: arrogant at times, but gentle and kind when he was looking after people. “Let’s go back to my good ol’ Pop and he’ll calm you down. He’s got a knack for that. Maybe your little wolfy friend even broke him out by now. That’s something good, right?”
I peeled my eyes open, my jaw still set with frustration. But his words were enough to convince me to release the grip I held on the blood I couldn’t keep in my hands. It slipped out slower now without the pressure. Drip, drip.
Soren offered me a goofy smile. “Drak would be pleased if your friend breaks Axel out. So, like I said, something good.” He clapped his hands in front of him. “Then we go find the real piece. I’m up for an adventure. Don’t know if my old man has the energy, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to the moat.”
He stooped and picked up the crystal. For a second, I only stared at the way he held it so casually. It didn’t burn him like it did anyone else who’d held it.
I snagged it from him and paused, turning it in my good hand and checking every angle to see if Drak had reached out to me, but the crystal neither brightened nor warmed. Nothing changed.
The most important memory wasn't his last human moment.
Soren reached up and over his shoulder, hooking his fingers on the collar of his tunic before dragging it over his head. He yanked the shirt off and tore at the seam around the sleeve hem. Offering it to me, he tilted his chin toward my injured hand.
“Thank you,” I accepted the scrap of fabric and wrapped it around my hand. By tucking it around itself, I tied it tight enough using my teeth and free hand to secure it and staunch the flow of blood.
“Drak would help,” he said simply. “Guess I should too.”
“I thought you had an issue with Drak.”
He hummed. “Drak had an issue with me. He was like a big brother, so I stayed nearby and admired him from the shadows after he told me to leave, as little brothers do.” With a smirk, he returned to the hall. “I probably annoyed the Hel out of him.”
“I don’t know how to bring him back.” Emotion strangled my words, but I swallowed and kept talking through the strain in my throat as I stalked after him into the shadows. “I’ve exhausted all my ideas for finding the last shard.”
“Well, how did you find the first two?” The shadows spoke around me with Soren’s curious voice.
“Brynhild’s journal. She recorded an account of another attempt to restore a soul. It didn’t work because they didn’t have Odin’s power to breathe life into the body.”
“I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about, so please elaborate.”
I recited every word from memory, having read the account too many times now. Once I reached the passage about the third shard, I slowed and carefully enunciated each word.
By the time I finished, we were back at Axel’s cell. Nothing had changed here either.
