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“You almost sound like you care,” she said waspishly.
“Like it or not, we’re stuck with one another. Now move.”
I gave her a push toward the opposite end of the street. Stubby fingers clawed at my clothes from behind and jagged, broken teeth attempted to take a bite out of me.
“Over here!” she yelled, pointing toward a building ahead.
She darted across the street and threw herself at an old, wooden door. It didn’t look like much, but any barrier between our bodies and the Hunt was better than nothing at all. The lock broke as the door opened, allowing us entry. Fyrcat slammed it shut the moment I tumbled in. We grabbed a table then and together, pushed it in front of the entrance, barricading ourselves inside.
“You aren’t the worst battle buddy I’ve ever had,” Fyrcat said, bending double as she tried to catch her breath.
“I’m not your buddy,” I snapped.
My lungs burned, and pain piled onto me. The high of battle was fading, alerting me to my many wounds. Damn near every muscle ached with exertion and the aftereffects of the mistletoe poisoning. I must have looked worse than I felt, because Fyrcat winced at the sight of me.
“Damn, Skarde. You look terrible.”
“Look who’s talking.”
Blood was still oozing from Fyrcat’s forehead, and half her face was mottled purple and black courtesy of Sigrun’s pack. Her smile was a bit lopsided, but sincere.
“Fair enough.”
I plopped down on the chair that had stood beside the table. We were trapped in some kind of hovel on the edge of Marshall Heights as draugr banged on the windowless walls. They’d break the defenses sooner or later. There was nothing left to do but wait. If Jovi and Torsten returned, we’d have reinforcements. If not, we’d rest and recover our strength for the next round. I watched Fyrcat round the ramshackle room and paint still more runes on the windows.
“What was that?” I asked finally. “The weapon you made, I mean. I assume that’s what you’re doing now.”
“Freya calls the spell ‘Odin’s Blind Eye’.”
I snorted. Of course, she did. Freya had no respect for anyone, least of all the gods of Asgard. Even the spells she wrought were designed to fly in the face of the All-Father.
“And what does it do?”
“It weakens his stolen magic. It’s part of the reason she’s able to shield herself from his eyes. After their love affair, she knows his power intimately, and how to guard against it. She taught her most capable acolytes how to ward him off, as well. I was among the most powerful of her followers.”
And because the Hunt was summoned by Odin, the draugrs would be vulnerable to the enchantment. It must have been the reason Fyrcat had survived this long. There was an undercurrent to the last admission that made me chuckle.
“Until Jovi arrived. You’re jealous.”
“I am not,” she said a touch too quickly. “There’s nothing to be envious of. She’s a child. An untrained, impulsive child.”
I leaned back in the chair, still laughing. “And yet she’ll have the skill to best you in time. I imagine that’s why you sent her to Muspelheim. Were you hoping to remain Freya’s favorite in the event of Jovi’s death?”
Fyrcat sent a gentle pulse of power into the runes and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. Every fiber of my being wanted to shy away from the enchantment she’d just woven over our little hideout. The unease didn’t fade until she crossed over to me and put her small, bloody hand on my forearm. She leaned in close, eyes glinting dangerously.
“Don’t mock me,” she whispered. She was close enough that our lips almost touched. “I’ve put up with your ill-advised heroism thus far. I’ve saved your life and offered your brother a chance at freedom. I’ve even given you the answers you sought about your precious Eir, and you throw it all back in my face. Do it again and I will leave you to rot.”
The words were quiet, but there was steel behind them. She wasn’t bluffing. Another perceptive remark and she’d leave me to the non-existent mercy of the dead outside.
“Are you expecting me to apologize?” I asked.
Fyrcat leaned away, a chilly smile playing at the edges of her mouth. The air around me felt suddenly colder.
“No. I don’t expect anything at all from you, Skarde. I try not to expect anything from anyone. It’s the best way to stay alive.”
Fyrcat turned her back to me then and paced to the opposite side of the shack, propping her head against the wall. She was out in seconds, the exertion of the day’s events catching up to her at last.
I watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest for a few moments wondering what exactly she’d meant by that. Then the darkness rose and claimed me as well.
