Honeyed Words (30 page)

I’d had a sheltered life compared to hers, Christ. And I thought my problems with Da were bad. “It’s better. He’s dead. Life goes on.”

She didn’t look convinced. “I just wish Gletts would hurry up.”

“He’ll be back.” I was getting cold. “In the meantime, do you know how to operate a washing machine?”

She cocked her hip at me, turning for the first time and seeing me in nothing but my bra and panties. “Nice,” she said, averting her eyes. “Do you have to be naked?”

“You and Gletts watched us in the shower, watched us making love,” I said angrily. “So suck it up. I’m taking a shower. Do you think you could find the washing machine?”

“Fine,” she said, keeping her eyes covered. “But if that thing comes back, I’m leaving.”

“It will take him a while,” I said, nearly laughing. “Besides, you came here for a reason, and I, for one, can’t wait to find out what it is.”

“Oh, right,” she said, turning to me, nakedness forgotten. “They’ve taken my people to a new place. Someplace we didn’t know existed. I’m pretty sure it was a prison for when some of the dwarves worked for the dragon.”

“Crap.”

“Yeah, and moved the boy as well.”

“He’s not dead?”

She shook her head. “No, they’ve been bleeding him, trying to use him like a blood bank. They’ve made a small batch of the potion for samples.”

Damn. That was out of control. “Do you have any leads as to where they’ve gone?”

She just shook her head. I could tell how scared she was. I wanted to dislike her, but there was something about the way she was so earnest and vulnerable.

I felt like the queen of the island of misfit toys.

“Let me try and get the blood off the floor in the bathroom, take a shower, and dress in something that doesn’t smell like death. You find the washer, and we’ll try and salvage her towels.”

“Okay, then we make a plan, right?”

I bobbed my head. “Right. A plan.”

The bathroom wasn’t that big, but there was a lot of blood on the floor. I used one of the already-soaked towels to mop up the floor, and then I rinsed it in the toilet. When you’re covered in someone else, toilets aren’t really that icky.

Once the blood was all off the floor, I climbed into the shower. Later I’d find some bleach and mop the place, hit the walls and tub, toilet and sink. Right now, I just wanted it off my skin.

I shucked off my panties and bra, laid them across the back of the toilet, and climbed in the steaming hot shower.

The water ran cold long before I felt clean, but the blood had stopped running out of my hair and off my body. I’d have to check the butterfly stitches later, but I didn’t think any of the blood was fresh.

Once I was done and dressed, Skella and I loaded up the washing machine with towels and ran it on heavy-duty load. Then we went into the living room and waited for someone to show up. Julie, Gletts, Bub, someone. Either way, I wasn’t going anywhere until I got some answers.

Forty-three

Thing about waiting is, I can’t just sit and do nothing. Within fifteen minutes, I had Skella mopping the bathroom and I was out in the smithy looking for boards and nails to cover the hole Anezka had blown in her bedroom wall.

She had everything I needed. I set up her ladder and was just finishing nailing a piece of plywood over the hole when Bub found his way back.

He was on the roof above my head, pissed and not taking any chances. Luckily he didn’t consider pushing the ladder over.

“We need to talk,” he said.

I looked up to find him sitting on the eave, his feet dangling over the edge.

“Seriously,” he mewled. “And stop killing me.”

I finished hammering in the last couple of nails and climbed back down the ladder. He followed me along the roof as I walked into the carport. Anezka had a huge roll of plastic sheeting in there, so I used a zip knife to cut off a good-sized square and picked up a heavy-duty staple gun off the shelf by her freezer. She likely did her own weatherproofing in the winter. Wind must be a bitch up here in the mountains.

“Will you talk to me if I promise not to hurt your prissy friend inside?” Bub asked, scampering along the roof as I walked back to the ladder.

I aimed the stapler at him and pulled the trigger. The staple flew at him with no more force than a light breeze. It didn’t even make it to the edge of the roof.

“You ruined my favorite boots,” I growled as I climbed up the ladder.

“Gee, and you keep smashing my head,” he said, edging away from the ladder in general. “I think you bear the greater weight of sin.”

I stapled the first corner of the plastic onto the side of the house and looked up at him. “Let’s play a game, shall we?”

He twisted his head this way and that. “I’m listening.”

I shot several more staples into the plastic, trying to create a tight seam. The eave would prevent most of the water from getting in, but I wanted to do a good job. At least until we could fix it up right.

“I’ll ask a question, and you give me a straight answer.”

He nodded, but before he could say anything, I fired six more staples into the house, closing off the top and left side.

“If you answer them to my satisfaction, we keep playing.”
Pop-pop
went the staples. “If you piss me off, or lie to me, or in any way do something that I disagree with—”

I slammed the staple gun against the house with three loud staccato bursts.

“—then I send you back to Múspell with my regards.”

He watched me but didn’t say a word. I continued working on the plastic. When I finished, I climbed down the ladder, brought it down, and carried it and the staple gun back to the carport.

“Deal,” he said, dropping off the roof and landing behind me. “But do you think I could get something to eat? It takes a lot out of me, this gruesome death and spectacular rebirth cycle.”

I nodded toward the house. “Within reason.”

“Can you cook something? Something greasy, maybe. Like a cheeseburger?”

I glared at him. “Last time you had a burger, you went a little crazy and tried to eat me.”

“Good point,” he said, slouching. “Maybe just a fried egg?”

“That we can accomplish … as long as she has eggs in her fridge.”

As soon as I opened the side door from the carport, Skella came out of the bedroom. “Doesn’t look bad from this side—” she was looking back over her shoulder, into the bedroom, and only turned toward us when the room was no longer in view. She stopped in her tracks and squeaked.

“Get a grip,” I barked. “He just needs some food…”

She took a step back toward the bedroom, blanching.

“Oh, grow a pair,” I said. “He’s not going to eat you.” I glared down at him. He seemed shorter, smaller in stature. “Right, Bub?”

He bobbed his head. “That is the deal.”

I rolled my eyes at Skella and walked into the kitchen. Christ, I was surrounded by screwups and pansies.

I made fried egg sandwiches, which Skella refused to touch. Bub was good with that, eating hers and the entire jar of mayonnaise, jar included.

Once we cleaned up and were settled into the living room again, I found Anezka’s phone. Or at least her cell phone. It was jammed into a ficus by the front door.

I called Katie. Time to get things straightened out. She didn’t answer, but Julie did.

“Hey, we’re in Katie’s car heading to Evergreen.”

Excellent. Good to have somebody see after Anezka while I took care of a few things here.

“How long until you get there?”

She covered the phone, and I heard Katie saying something in the background. She sounded pissed.

“About fifteen minutes. Katie wants to know if you’re okay.”

“I said she was fine,” I heard Gletts say from inside the car.

“Sarah?” Katie yelled into the cell phone. Julie must’ve put it on speaker. “Are you hurt, or under any duress?”

“I’m fine. Things are a little nutso, but I’m here with Skella.”

I looked over at Bub, who just shrugged.

“And a friend of Anezka’s. Gunther’s met him.”

Bub hissed when I mentioned Gunther’s name, but he didn’t move.

“Can you meet us at the hospital, or do we need to come get you?”

Skella nodded, but Bub just shrugged. I covered the phone, “What?” I asked him.

“I’d rather not,” he said.

“It’s complicated,” I said into the phone. “Give me thirty minutes and I’ll head that way.”

“Okay,” Julie said. “If we don’t see you in a couple of hours, we’re coming out there.”

“Any word on how Anezka is?”

“Melanie is already on it,” Katie called into the phone. “She got a hold of the hospital. Chopper should be there already. She’s checking with them to ferret out the deets.”

“Thanks. I need to go take care of something here, take me a little bit to fix. Don’t worry.”

“Love you,” Katie said.

“Us, too,” Gletts called from the backseat, laughing.

I heard a smack and a grunt. One of them didn’t think he was too funny.

“Be careful,” Julie said, taking the phone off speaker. The sound of wind quieted. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, boss,” I said, smiling. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

I gave Bub and Skella the evil eye.

“I’ll see you in a few hours.”

I shut off the cell phone, walked into the kitchen, pulled a Diet Coke from the fridge, and walked back into the living room. Neither of them had moved.

“You first,” I said to Bub, sitting on the couch with my arms on the back. “What is going on with Anezka?”

He glanced at the amulet on the wall over the fireplace for a long moment, then back to me.

“What I am about to tell you has not been shared, even with Anezka.”

Great. More secrets.

Forty-four

Bub stood in front of the fireplace with his clawed hands behind his back. As he spoke he rocked back and forth on his heels like a schoolboy.

“I have served the amulet for one hundred and seventy-three generations,” he began. “I was called from my hive mother by a powerful blacksmith and bound to this world.” He looked at me, his huge eyes shining in the failing light. “In the earliest days of his youth, my first master—Völundr—had been bartered to a clan of dwarves. He grew unto them as a servant, but he proved a brilliant and quick-witted child. Before he stood as tall as me,” he held one clawed hand to the top of his head, “they apprenticed him to their greatest blacksmith—Sindri. My master was a shadow to the mighty Sindri, learning through hard work and perseverance.

“One day, Sindri’s brother Brock returned to the clan declaiming how the god Loki had insulted them all and how he swore to prove that Sindri was the greatest smith the gods of Æsir would ever know. My master, a human, had learned all he could from the dwarves by the time of this disagreement with the gods. His apprenticeship was long over, yet the dwarves would not release him. In a moment of jealousy, he stole a trinket, really—a bauble of the meanest sort. This he used as a basis, a seed, as it were, to create a new item.”

He pointed to the amulet over the fireplace. “At the heart of that, my bond—my chain to this world—lies an older power, one I do not fully understand.”

Skella sat on the big comfy chair with her knees pulled up to her chest and her eyes wide. The sun was setting, the last falling rays illuminating Bub like a spotlight.

“Once this trinket had been acquired, my first master used the power of the dwarves to take a bit of this and that—dribs and drabs of magic and leavings the dwarves felt were of no real consequence. From each of three powerful artifacts, he took a measure.

“As Brock and his brother Sindri went to Asgard to present ever greater gifts to the gods, my master hoarded his pilfered items. He utilized the magic he’d garnered from the dwarves and summoned me, binding me to this thing.”

He waved his hands above his head, taking in the shadow box above the fireplace and the amulet that hung within.

“The three gifts of Sindri and Brock were presented to the gods: the forged boar, Golden Bristle, which could fly through the air and shed light from its many bristles; Draupnir, the Ring of Increase—an arm ring of gold that creates eight copies of itself every ninth night; and finally, Miölnir, the mighty hammer of Thor himself, the greatest weapon to be wielded by the ancient ones.”

“Holy…” Skella gasped. “I have heard of these.” She turned to me, practically bouncing in her chair. “The dragons collected or destroyed as many of the artifacts as they could find. But I’ve seen Draupnir!”

Bub and I both looked at her. A golden ring that could copy itself eight times every ninth night. That would seriously destroy the world gold market, if it got out.

“Where did you see this?” I asked Skella.

“At the concert,” she said. “Was probably one of the copies. They aren’t magical, right?” She turned to Bub for confirmation.