Mist Revealed (18 page)

Irene’s eyes widened. She placed her cup onto the saucer, sloshing liquid over the side and reached for the leather-bound tome. “Why it’s a little known legend recounted by a group of knights in the middle ages. Many of the members were persecuted by the church because they claimed that the Norse gods were actually the servants of our god. They were never meant to bring about Ragnarok, you see. They were supposed to stop it from ever happening again, but the Norse gods refused to accept the decree handed to them.”

Cat leaned forward. The room spun. Dammit, she should’ve gotten something else for lunch. At the moment, she regretted not eating the sandwich Ivan’s son had brought to her. Low blood sugar always made her dizzy. She breathed through the sensation.

“Why wouldn’t they want to stop it?”

The older woman tapped a gnarled finger on the page. It showed a crude picture of an angel. “They were actually the children of heaven, but they favored the privileges of the flesh. Once they passed on their gifts to the children of the earth, they would resume their rightful place.”

“And humans are the children of the earth.”

Irene grinned. Only a few teeth remained in her mouth. “Very good, young lady. Who better to protect the world then the humans tied to it?”

Cat swayed. She grabbed the edge of the chair. “But how do the children of mist and fire play into it?”

Irene pressed a fist against her chest. She grimaced.

Cat glanced at the sweat on Irene’s brow and the tight lines by her eyes. “Are you okay?”

Irene offered a small smile. “I have a weak heart. I’m fine.” She dragged the large book into her lap and turned the page. It showed a picture of a staff with a crystal at the top. On one side of it was a depiction of flames, on the other squiggly lines. “The knights claimed the gifted humans would have to choose a weapon.”

“Mist or fire.” Her words came out slurred. She frowned but couldn’t figure out why.

Irene coughed hard. She grabbed her shirt and tugged at it as if she were choking.

Cat pushed from her seat. She reached for the older woman but her limbs grew heavy. She slumped over the arm of her chair. Black dress shoes came into view, then faded away with everything else.

Cat grimaced. Another thump tore a groan from her throat. Her head smacked against the next step. Two more and her stomach threatened to heave. She didn’t get the chance. The guy dragged her across a concrete floor, then dropped her legs. Her ankles hit the ground, and a sharp pain radiated up her spine.

She pried her eyelids open. A single bare bulb brightened the room. Rough-cut beams made up the ceiling. Cobwebs filled the space between them. She was in a basement. In the hotel? She didn’t know, didn’t care. She had to get out of here, but her limbs wouldn’t respond to her command to move.

Fear choked her. Her heart pounded hard.
I’m going to die.

“You’re awake?” Surprise laced the man’s roughly accented voice.

She glanced in the direction it came from. A hulking man with darkly tanned skin stood next to a folding table. His brown eyes bored into her. He reminded her of Draven, but his hair was longer and braided into several sections. He wore a business suit, no tie. That had been shoved into her mouth. She worked her jaw to get it out. No luck. The balled fabric stretched her lips.

She whimpered. Where was Rune? Why hadn’t he noticed the fire demon carrying her from the room? He had to have taken her through the door. She never would’ve fit through the small, high windows in the parlor.

“I guess you can’t answer, can you?”

She glared at the fire demon. Anger surged and mixed with the terror tightening her chest.

“You should’ve finished your tea. It would’ve been easier for both of us if you weren’t awake.”

She sucked in a rough breath. Everything bad that could happen to a woman flashed before her eyes.

He knelt next to her and stroked a finger down her chest. “I don’t plan on raping you, Catherine. I don’t have time. My son will know by now that I’ve returned to
Niflheim
. You must die before he finds us. He thinks to claim you, but the eldest
eldjötnar
should get first choice of the treasure, don’t you think?”

Realization struck. The man had to be Surtr, the leader of the fire demons.

“I simply want the essence of Odin you hold.” He grinned, showing off long and wide fangs. “And I will absorb it with your last heartbeat.”

The answer as to which Norse god her grandmother killed didn’t satisfy her craving for knowledge. The demon’s words shoved everything else out.

He tugged her limp body into his lap. With gentle fingers that didn’t match the rough treatment he’d shown her a couple of minutes ago, he brushed her hair from her neck. She sensed his intent and wanted to do something to stop him, but couldn’t. She was trapped inside her unresponsive body.

His hot breath washed over her skin, and her stomach churned. She tried to scream. It came out as a low, muffled groan. He scraped his fangs over her neck. Once, twice, then he bit. Pain radiated outward. Her body seized. Fire raced through her veins. She was burning alive. She wanted to thrash, to fight, to do something, but only her pitiful moans reached her ears.

Tears leaked from her eyes, wetting her cheeks. The agony grew with each pull of his mouth on her vein. Her view of the floorboards above her grew blurry. Spots spread across her vision. Her heart stuttered, and her breaths grew shallower.

She was going to die.

This isn’t right. The eldjötnar is breaking the rules.

The thought hovered in her head, stirring her anger. The gifted ones were supposed to pick their weapon. She had.

Mist.

Rune was her choice.

The demon pulled away on a groan, stopping her ramblings. Blood stained his fangs. She blinked and tried to bring his face into focus but failed. He remained a fuzzy nightmare.

“I taste the power in you already. Rune woke it when he fucked you.” Surtr leveled glowing brown eyes on her. “Too bad he didn’t finish it.”

By mating her. Regret added to her fear and anger. Another whimper crawled from her throat.

Surtr released her. She clunked onto the hard floor. He licked his finger and ran it over her neck. White-hot pain spread in its wake. She screamed. The sound never made it out of her mouth. It reverberated in her head instead.

“I will return soon to ease your agony. I must destroy the evidence you’ve gathered on us first. Besides, I’d rather not be present while your body decays. It’s an unpleasant sight, even for a demon. It is bad enough I will have to drink your rotten blood when I consume your heart.” He grinned at her.

Like the mated demons had when they’d killed their women.
Oh God.

“But don’t worry, human. Your soul will live on here.” He thumped his chest. “You can join the bitch who birthed my sons.”

He stood and walked away. She listened to tap
of his shoes against the wooden stairs. The distant sound of a door closing reached her ears.

She lay there unable to move with his silk tie still jammed in her mouth. The reality of her situation hit her. She was going to die. Here. Alone.

More tears fell. She didn’t want to be alone. She wanted Rune.

* * * *

Rune leaned against the wall in the library and listened to Francis, the veterinarian who’d helped Cat with the dying male a couple of nights ago. The old man went over everything he knew of the treasure that had been found. It wasn’t much, but Rune needed all the knowledge he could gather. The children of the mist had awoken too late as he’d feared.

“How many years ago was this war?”

Francis chuckled. “Not just any war. World War II.”

Rune sighed and debated whether or not he wanted to use any of his dwindling power on the human. Although he’d fed from Ivan not long ago, he hadn’t been able to keep much of the nourishment down. The few drops of Cat’s blood he’d teased himself with had begun to alter his makeup. He feared soon he wouldn’t be able to feed on another being.

A week ago he would’ve said such an occurrence was impossible. Not anymore. He’d chosen Cat or she had him. Their bodies would ensure they completed the union. The mating drive, his hunger and their growing emotional bond were all tied into it.

The Wardens’ purposes given to them by the earth itself—to guard, watch and wait—no longer applied. The alternate outcome to Ragnarok had finally come to pass.

He was to be a weapon.

Cat’s weapon.

The notion filled him with pride. Before he let it consume him, he pushed the emotion away and focused on the problems at hand.

“What year was the staff found?” Maybe if posed his question a different way Francis would answer.

The male’s brows pinched. “Forty-two or forty-three.” He shook his head. “I can’t remember exactly.”

Rune inwardly cursed. Their treasures could be anywhere.

Ivan walked into the room. “Would you like any tea?”

Rune let his gaze settle on Ivan but kept the parlor door in his peripheral vision. It was the only way in or out of the room. He’d sealed all other entry points the
eldjötnar
’s smoke could enter.

“No, tha—”

“I’d love some.” Francis’s eyes widened. “And scones. Do you have any? Your wife makes the best pastries.”

“Fruit tarts today. I’ll bring them right out.”

Ivan disappeared, and Rune groaned. He hated the ritual of eating. He could consume solid food but got nothing out of the act, not enjoyment or nourishment. He’d only have to throw it up later.

Francis crossed his arms over his chest and studied him carefully. “Do you believe in the tales of the
eldjötnar
?”

Rune nodded. “Yes, they are real.”

“I never used to believe, even after people started dying. I do now.”

Ivan entered, placed the tray on the table in front of the sofa, then left. Francis took a tart and a cup of tea. He made quick work of finishing both. The cup clunked as he set it down.

He wiped his mouth. “I’ve seen him move through the village. A pillar of fire and smoke that didn’t burn anything but left damage in its wake.” He waggled a finger at him. “The damn demon is going to send us into the poor house if he doesn’t kill us first.”

Rune frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Our cars, of course.” Francis scowled. He leaned forward, swayed and grabbed the arm of the sofa. “Anything that runs on gasoline is fair game to him. I saw him tonight. His burning smoke skipped from one exhaust pipe to the other.”

“Son of a bitch.” Rune groaned.

The plane’s engine trouble wasn’t a coincidence. It had been meant to stop them from leaving. So they didn’t get to the remaining gods? Or to keep Cat here? Either reason meant trouble. He moved to stand. The older male grabbed his throat, coughed violently, then toppled over.

Rune went to him. He pressed his fingers to the vein in his neck. Dead. He shifted his attention from the male to the tea, the same tea Ivan’s grandmother was drinking when he’d left Cat with her.

He cursed and ran to the parlor door. He grabbed the handle. Searing heat met his palm. He threw his shoulder into the wood and broke it. A quick scan of the room showed Irene slumped over the couch, but Cat was gone.

The
eldjötnar
had taken her.

Impossible.
He snapped his teeth together. He should’ve known better. Nothing was impossible. Hadn’t he and Cat proved that? He should’ve insisted she stay with him, should’ve pushed her harder to mate him, should’ve… He shoved the regret away. It wouldn’t help bring her back. He only prayed it wasn’t too late.

He surveyed the room slowly. A human, mate or not, couldn’t take the form of an element. Their bodies wouldn’t conform. On that, he’d stake his life. But a gifted human? He didn’t have an answer to that question. Even if she could, ice still covered everything he’d sealed.

He spun. There was no other way out.

That I can see.

He called the mist to him. Rolling waves of fog drifted into the room. A wave of his hand, and it filled the space. Another flick of his finger, and the door slammed shut. The cool caress of his element stroked him. Its comfort did nothing for him. He wouldn’t be able to relax until he held Cat in his arms again.

The wisps of icy fog whirled around him, faster and faster. The wind whined. He waited a moment more until the mist absorbed his fear and understood its task. He had to find his mate before she was killed or the mist would lose a child—him.

The walls trembled under the force of the whirling cyclone. He released his hold over the raw power. It rushed outward, seeking the entry point the
eldjötnar
had used to reach his woman.

He turned and watched the fog disappear around the edges of a door disguised as one of the wall panels.

“Fuck, no.”

He’d failed in his role. He shoved the weak thought away before it took hold. He would save Cat. No other option was acceptable.

He rushed to the panel and threw a shoulder into it. It splintered. He tumbled into the dark alcove. Stairs led down. He followed them into a dirt basement. The low roof didn’t offer him the room to stand. He crouched and ran the length of the house to another door. He pushed it open. A path led from it down the sloped side of the cliff.

At the most, an hour had passed since Cat walked into the parlor. The
eldjötnar
couldn’t have gotten far.

Unless he took her on a boat or plane.

He scanned both the sea and air. Nothing out of the ordinary caught his eye. Frustration mounted. In his solid form, his senses weren’t much better than an average human’s. The last time Cat had run from him, he’d been lucky enough to find a dog who’d led him to her. He hoped to do so again.

He sent out a plea for help.

Within minutes, two huskies approached, tails wagging. They’d shared their blood with him and had lost their natural fear. He greeted them with a small scratch to their heads. The act wasted precious time. He wanted the rip the knowledge from their minds, but they wouldn’t understand the anxiety twisting his insides. It would be wrong to take it out on them. He also didn’t know if he could. To absorb their thoughts, he’d have to feed from them.

He pushed urgency into the question he sent to them. They turned and ran across the stone path. He followed, and they led him to the small landing strip on the edge of town. Only a few drops of oil marked where the helicopter he and Cat had planned to take had been stored.

Fuck, no.

He pivoted and surveyed the area. Nothing. He inhaled deeply in an effort to gain any lingering details scattered on the breeze. No familiar scents drifted to him, not Cat’s or the
eldjötnar’s
.

Fear threatened. His heartbeat kicked into high gear. He closed his eyes, refusing to give in to it, and sent another plea for help on the wind. Several minutes passed while he stood there with sweat trickling down his spine. Finally, a high-pitched whistling sound reached his ears. He peered into the direction the sound came from. Two eagles perched on a roof nearby.

“Help me.” He stretched his arms to them. The birds had to travel with him while he searched for Cat if he had any hope of returning to his solid form quickly. He was too weak to do so on his own.