CHAPTER 55: HUNTED
“For the love of—stop running!” Shannon snapped behind him.
Theo, realizing that Shannon was finally unable to keep up, knew he could either slow or leave her behind for Svartr Buðlungr to catch and turn into that Firstlander asshole’s puppet. With intense reluctance, Theo slowed, looking behind them uncertainly. “Catch your breath. We need to keep going.”
“What…the…hell…” Shannon panted, grabbing her knees, “Theo, where’s Masaaki?”
“Hopefully he’s still in my damned truck,” Theo said, but inwardly, he knew the chance of that was pretty much nonexistent. “But honestly, I don’t think that’s very likely. It’s been almost twelve hours—he’s probably running mindlessly through the forest screaming my name and sobbing curses to my ancestors by now.”
“Why’d you leave him in the truck?” Shannon demanded.
Why had he left the yatagarasu in the truck? It had been a moment of chivalry, an act of what he thought to be generosity at the time, a manly statement that he didn’t need other people to fight his battles for him, but now was starting to look rather stupid on his part. “It’s complicated,” Theo said, blushing.
Over his shoulder, Angus—who had been remarkably patient so far, considering—started to wriggle. Theo considered holding onto him anyway, then let the dog down to stretch his legs.
“Okay,” Theo said, “we need a plan.”
“Who was that guy and why did he try to shove a knife in my head?” Shannon demanded.
This wasn’t going to go over well. Theo took a deep breath, let it out between his teeth, and said, “There’s a natural-born vampire lord in Kenai. Wiped out the last nest that lived there, took it over for himself. Captured my friend Mandi two days ago and I went to knock some heads together, only to find out the guys who captured her weren’t the same guys I thought were there and the girly-haired fucker had somehow summoned a Duke of the Nightlands as his own personal little butt-buddy and I got fucked, okay?” Theo finished panting, not having been able to think straight ever since Svartr Buðlungr had taken his blood and made him dance like a puppeteer.
Remembering that—and the way Shannon had threatened Buðlungr—he glanced at the queen nervously. “So your parents taught you blood-magic? That why you drank his blood?” He wasn’t afraid, per se, but the idea that she had hid that from him, masked by innocence and naivete, was almost as agitating as the idea that Svartr Buðlungr was even then probably a few hundred yards off in the forest, waiting for an opportunity to finish what he started.
She made a grossed-out face. “Ew, no. I did it because Angus—”
Angus headbutted her in the crotch looking for pets, as was his habit. She oofed and stumbled back, glaring at the dog.
He just wants attention, Theo thought.
“Big lug just wants attention,” Theo said idly, returning his attention to the woods. “His whole world just turned upside down—just looking for a little reassurance, that’s all.” He ruffled the dog’s fuzzy head, still keeping an eye out for Buðlungr. Though Theo hated to admit it, he might have to leave the dog behind if the Duke returned and they needed to run again. He really wasn’t looking forward to abandoning the brute, but if it spared him another stint as a marionette…
“Okay, so what’s our plan?” Shannon asked.
Theo, of course, didn’t have a plan.
He didn’t have a plan because they were fucked. Fucked with a wrought-iron nailbat. He didn’t have friends in this world. He’d ditched that whole scene centuries ago for some peace and quiet out in the wilderness of Bumfuck, Nowhere, Alaska, trying to keep his head low and hope another Third Lander queen didn’t discover his whereabouts and send a team to capture him, drag him back to the Nightlands, and enthrall him so she could add another general to her army.
“Look,” Theo said, turning back to face Shannon, “that Firstlander lord…I think he might actually be stronger than me because he was born here. And don’t even get me started on the Duke… He could rip me in half with his mind without breaking a sweat.” The fact that he hadn’t suggested that Svartr Buðlungr was not a willing participant in Pale Beaver’s power grab. He shook his head. “We’ve got no backup, no muscle, no magic, no defenses. They’re eventually gonna track us down, and when they do, they’re gonna enthrall me and take you back to Kenai to start their army.” He squinted up at the dim light overhead. The sun would be rising again in an hour or two, giving them only a couple hours of hazy darkness each night in summer in this sun-soaked land. “Probably our best bet is to board a flight to Australia and go hide out in the desert or something. Maybe find a feylord that would sponsor you for refugee status in the Second Lands after you swore to have his babies for him or something.”
Shannon went pale, swallowed hard, and her eyes flickered to Angus, who had sat down beside her, head against her thigh, drooling big trails of slime down her leg.
“Yeah, it’s gross,” Theo commiserated, “I know. You get used to it. Carry a towel.” He tugged off his shirt and tossed it at her, still concentrating on the forest to make sure they weren’t being followed.
“Sooo,” Shannon said, clearing her throat, “is now a good time to tell you I enthralled that barghest?”
Theo went totally still. The Firstlander lord had grilled him about the barghest—how to find him and where, both of which Theo didn’t know—with supreme interest, much more than should have been allotted to a mere beast, even if he was first-tier. Once the tawny-skinned native had gone off to do some sweat-lodge ceremony with a group of his fourteen-hundreds drinking buddies, Svartr Buðlungr had boredly let it slip amidst babysitting duties that the barghest was supposedly one of Odin’s Chosen, and that there was some greasy-skinned old hermit’s prophecy from a couple centuries back that a barghest with the Mark of Odin would screw up some chaos god’s Master Plan. Very slowly, he turned to face Shannon. “What did you say?”
Her eyes widened and she backed away from him. “Look, I’m sorry,” she started babbling, “I know you guys told me not to, but he was being abused and I took him home and he bit me and it was just a reflex and I rammed my fangs into him and that icy shit came out and I’m sorry and please don’t tell Masaaki.”
“No, back up,” Theo said, waving all that off. “That barghest that we saw in the slave stable? You went back and got him? Brought him home?” Suddenly, the idea of a barghest out there, slinking through the shadows, made every hair on his body stand on end.
“Uh…” She swallowed hard. “Yes?”
“But you enthralled him?” This was…awesome! Perhaps the gods loved him, after all. Theo could see it now. “Hey Buðlungr, say hello to my little friend…” He found himself grinning at their good luck. “Where is he?”
The sudden wince on Shannon’s face was enough to tell him he wasn’t going to like the answer. “I left him trapped in a limo on the Seward Highway right before a bunch of guys in black combat gear attacked me and tried to shoot me in the head.”
The Inquisition. If Odin cared enough to shit on Theo’s day, this is what it would look like. “So the Christians have him,” he muttered.
Shannon opened her mouth, then closed it again, looking guilty. “Maybe?”
“Freyja be merciful,” Theo whispered. “He’ll kill everyone between here and Seward.”
She gulped. “I…”
“We have to find him,” Theo said. “We have to sic him on that damned nest before they come after you.”
“Look, maybe we should go back home, grab some of those guns in my parents’ room and call a cab…”
Theo glanced around them. They were approximately two miles from the highway, high up in Highland Valley, heading along the relatively unpopulated mountains to avoid people and homes. “We can’t go back there. You can bet your goddamn ass they left a guard.” Or, if not a guard, some sort of nasty web of seiðr. “You got money on you?”
“No. Left my debit card with Björn in case he wanted to buy a soda or something.”
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Theo cursed, having been stripped of his wallet, keys, and valuables by the Duke of the Nightlands, who had proceeded to ceremonially burn them, just in case Theo had enchanted them with a couple nasty surprises for would-be Third Lander kidnappers. Which he had. He cursed again. “We need a car.”
Shannon glanced behind them, out at Eagle River beyond the valley. “You know, I’ve got this friend from Eagle River who lives up here in Highland… Works at the coffee shop. Always trying to get me out on a date.”
Theo squinted at her. “Would he let you borrow his car?”
“Uh, well, I don’t know about that. Probably not that desperate…” She made a nervous laugh. “I was kind of thinking just let us use his phone, maybe see if we can get hold of a rental. And, you know, offer him a beer or something.”
Theo squinted at her. “Anyone we bring into this is going to die horribly. Do you care if he dies horribly?”
Her mouth fell open in an O. “Uh.”
“Then no, we aren’t going to go drag the Duke of the Nightlands to your friend’s front door. We’re going to find a nice little old lady at a stoplight and hijack her car, and hope she’s old enough and feeble enough that those bloodletters pursuing us won’t waste their time on her, and if they do waste their time on her, at least she already had a long life. Come on.”
#
Shannon really hadn’t thought Theo was serious when he had threatened to hijack the car of a little old lady, but two hours later, that was exactly what he had done.
“You parked your chariot-of-steel in a ditch,” Angus was telling the woman. “Everything’s fine, but the crash was horrifying. You’re lucky to be alive. We’re driving you home in our chariot so you can call a wrecking service. You like us very much and want to help as much as possible, and will completely overlook any oddities you may see because you know you’re getting old and your vision is failing.”
“What sweet young children you are,” the old lady said. “That crash was horrifying. It’s so nice of you to give me a ride.”
Theo glanced over the passenger seat at the woman who now rode shotgun, looking surprised and even a little guilty. “I mean, I knew she was old, but what are the chances she had end-stage dementia?”
“Pretty low,” Shannon gritted, glaring at Angus.
“The gods must want me to show that fucker Buðlungr where he can shove his blood-bindings,” Theo mused.
“Pretty sure it’s not the gods,” she said, holding the dog’s eyes until he coughed uncomfortably and looked away.
Theo frowned at her through the rearview. “What’s with all the dirty looks you’re giving my dog lately?” he demanded. “You guys have some sort of problem while I was in Kenai?”
“You could say that,” Shannon gritted. She still hadn’t gotten over the fact that Angus had made her drink blood. How gross and disgusting was that?
“I had to,” Angus said, leaning in close. “He would’ve lobotomized you.”
And there he went reading her mind again. Scowling, she drew a finger across her neck. You keep reading my mind without permission and I’m gonna shave your nuts, hamstring you, and drop you off at the pound with a ball gag in your mouth and tell them you’re there to get neutered.
At the sudden way Angus’s jaw dropped open, her point had gotten across.
“Can’t believe that bastard almost lobotomized you,” Theo said, oblivious. “Whatever that Firstlander lord’s hold on him, it’s gotta be strong. There’s rules against that sort of shit.”
“But why the blood?” Shannon demanded, still glaring at the illusioned feylord, who was now cringing into the side door.
“It’s how he controls people,” Theo told her. “Seiðr. Cord magic. It can be used it for all sorts of things, but it’s strongest with blood.”
“You take a man’s blood, you can control him,” Angus said. “At least until you give him enough time alone to counter it. It’s blood magic. He wasn’t going to take the chance you knew how to use it.”
“My grandson does cord magic,” the little old lady said, smiling at Theo. “He’s a divine guitarist.”
“Oh really? Here in Alaska?” As Theo struck up a conversation with the old lady, Shannon squinted at the feylord. Why don’t you want to tell Theo?
Angus hastily swung his head to look at the vampire lord, then leaned forth and whispered, “He’d kill me.”
Why?
Angus looked anxious, licking his jowly lips as he watched the vampire lord chat it up with the ninety-year-old. “He, uh, really doesn’t like us.”
“I fucking hate them,” Theo snarled, his suddenly hands tightening in white-knuckled grips on the steering wheel. It creaked, dented, and folded inward under the pressure of his hands. “Hate. Them.”
“Oh no,” the old lady cried, slapping the vampire lord’s arm playfully. “Metallica is amazing! My son tried out for them and actually made the second-to-last cut. He was almost chosen instead of James Hetfield.”
“See?” the feylord whispered, eyes on the crushed steering wheel. “They hate us.”
“Hate,” Theo snarled, “Them. Sniveling, meddling, mindweaving little cowards should be dragged out and eviscerated with spoons!” He roared the last and put his fist through the dash, crushing plastic and popping the stereo out onto the footspace.
“I think you should keep your mouth shut,” Shannon said, eyes wide.
“Why?!” Theo snapped, glaring at her through the rearview.
“Because the lady is telling you a story and you should listen to that and only that,” Angus said hastily.
Theo immediately turned to face the woman, nodding politely as she started talking about once knitting a guitar warmer for Jimi Hendrix.
Eying the splintered plastic of the dash and swallowing hard, Shannon leaned close to the dog and whispered, “What did you do to him?”
“It’s more of a cultural thing,” Angus whispered, “not something I did personally.” Then he grimaced. “But then there was the time I kept moving the keys on him because I was bored and he was watching all the seasons of Supernatural back to back…” He cocked his head. “Or the time he couldn’t get the itching powder out of his favorite chair because I got bored because he was spending too much time in it.” He seemed to think again. “Or maybe the time I superglued his toilet seat down in the middle of the night so he had to pee in the sink, or the time I replaced his toothpaste with hemorrhoid cream…but those times were both just for fun.”
Shannon slowly turned to look at the feylord, who gave her a sheepish, jowly grin.
“You do anything like that to me,” she said slowly, “and it’s the ball-gag.”
The mastiff immediately shut its mouth.
“Hate them,” Theo muttered again under his breath.
“So please,” Angus whispered, “don’t tell him, okay?”
Karmically, Shannon wasn’t sure where holding her tongue ranked on the good-to-evil scale—forget to mention some pranks or effectively assisting in murder—but there was genuine fear in the dog’s brown eyes, so she grunted.
A couple hours later, they were back at the café and gas station where Shannon had left the limo.
The limo was gone. Shannon, who had left her phone back at the house in Theo’s mad dash through the night, felt a cold chill as they pulled up to the café parking lot and got out. “Stay,” Theo told Angus, taking the keys and slamming the door behind them. Shannon saw Angus turn to the old lady and hesitated.
“Coming?” Theo demanded. Shannon shook herself and hurried to the front door.
It wasn’t mutilated, she noticed, which was a good sign. She stepped inside, enduring the little ringing bell overhead, Theo following right behind her.
“Hey, I’ll be right with you,” the guy at the fry counter said, sounding distracted. “It’s just me today—having trouble keeping up.” He was different than the last guy, who had been more pudgy and looked like he smiled more. This guy looked kind of like one of those heavily-tanned, gold-wearing weasels that sold used cars and motorhomes.
“So this is where they abducted you?” Theo asked quietly. The shadows, she noticed, were deeper around him, pooling around his hands.
“In the bathroom,” Shannon whispered, gesturing.
Glancing around, Theo took the lead to the bathroom, then hesitated at the OUT OF SERVICE note on the door. “This bathroom?” he asked, jerking a thumb at the sign.
“Hey, yeah, sorry, dude,” the guy flipping burgers at the griddle called to them, “some asshole busted it up and dumped like twenty pounds of shit in the toilet yesterday. Waiting for the plumber. If you can’t wait, there’s another one in the gas station next door.”
Theo gave Shannon a pointed quirk of his eyebrow and Shannon nodded. She went to the front counter and sat down on a stool as the guy continued grilling with his back to them.
“So, uh,” Shannon said, clearing her throat, “there was a guy working here yesterday—took my call about a limo?”
The weaselly guy cast her an irritated look over his shoulder as aerosolled grease smoke roiled from the frying items in front of him. “You want Jessie.”
The disgusted manner in which the man spoke made the little alarm bells in Shannon’s mind start going off. “Is he here?”
“Fuck if I know,” the man said, flipping a mostly-cooked meat patty and smoothly adding cheese. “Called up this morning, claimed he was in Eagle River.”
Shannon felt herself go cold as she imagined what Björn would do once he realized he needed to get from Point A to Point B and couldn’t drive. “Does he…live…in Eagle River?” she hazarded, hoping against hope.
“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” the man demanded. “That’s like two hours from here.” Just talking about the guy, it seemed, was pissing him off. The tanned chef shook his head. “Man, I’m so sick of that guy and his psychobabble bullshit. Always trying to shrink the customers, like he was a fucking MD or something. Fuck, man. I told him to stop, but he said it was good to just let people talk. Spent more time talking than frying. Fuck.”
“Um,” Shannon said, “can I get his phone number?”
“You’re the second one to ask me that douchebag’s phone number this morning,” the guy snorted.
The vampire lord tensed. “Oh?” he asked, surprisingly calm-sounding, considering the way his body was taut as a bowstring. “Someone else was asking?”
“Yeah, she’s sitting over there,” he said, gesturing to the furthest booth from the counter, where a lithe woman in black combat gear was reading a newspaper.
Seeing that garb, remembering what it meant, Shannon tensed all over.
“I see her,” Theo whispered to her, his jaw going tight. Eyes on the woman, he went to the door, glanced outside, then came back. Leaning close to Shannon, he said, “Looks like they left her here to watch. We should go. Now.”
Confront your enemy head-on, Masaaki’s words repeated in her mind. Conquer your fear. Look at it, examine it, but never run. Running means you’ve already lost. Such is the way of the samurai.
“Running means you’ve already lost,” Shannon said, narrowing her eyes at the woman whose brethren had tried to execute her in cold blood.
Theo, who had already been slipping towards the exit, hesitated. “What?”
But Shannon was already moving towards the self-serving hypocrite at the table.
“Shannon?” Theo hissed behind her. “Hey!”
She ignored him, striding up to the woman’s booth on legs powered by indignation and anger. As she came to a stop beside the table, the woman glanced up, her gray eyes widened, and her hand reached for her phone. Shannon, faster, slammed her fist down on the device, crushing it into a useless paste on the tabletop, then smiled through her teeth. “May I sit down?”