Though she’s lovely, and I sense a capacity in her to be pleased, only darkness haunts her now as she gazes at us within our Bloodrune-cursed barrier. Still locked in coitus from whatever her magic has done—because I feel it is hers now, pouring all through me as she gazes at me with those lovely green eyes—I can’t even turn my head to acknowledge her, as she stares at us.
Something vicious comes into her, then, as she takes in our frozen lovemaking. Something utterly deadly, as her iron-cold gaze flicks from me to Bjorn, then finally to Ström. It stays there, pinned to him, as I feel him growl. Because Ström is fighting her, struggling deep inside our bond to thrust off her all-consuming mind-magic.
Just like he did a hundred years ago—when he first escaped Alfhild Fey.
“Well, well. Ström Eriksson. The one that got away.” Alfhild’s voice is bitter as she stares at him, before her gaze peruses the rest of us again. “And Mikkel and Lærke Thorsen. My two little canaries turned storm crows. You betrayed the sweet deal we had, that you would just shut up about where your club’s expansion money came from and forget all about me. Too bad you just had to remember. Just like I’ve had curses inside all your minds these past decades to forget me, I also had a little curse inside your minds for in case you remembered. So nice of you all to trip it and tell me exactly where you were. All together like three little peas in a pod. Five peas, it seems, since you have a few newfriendswith you. No matter. Idon’t mind cooking five peas, rather than three, to eat for dinner. Shall we?”
With a flick of Alfhild’s fingers, Bjorn, Ström, and I are separated like marionettes, puppeteered to her whims.
With another flick, a terrible, violet-red sigil etches itself inside my mind.
And I pass out.
28
TRAPPED
Iwake to the sound of water lapping all around me. Confusion fogs my brain; then I remember what happened at The Chartreuse and I sit bolt upright, wide awake as my inner dragons roar.
As I blink and hold a hand up, shading my eyes from the sun, I notice three things about my situation. First, I’m not at the twins’ club anymore. I’m on an old-style Viking raiding ship. Second, my magic doesn’t seem to work; though I can feel my inner dragons rage into their combined Bloodwalker power now, nothing is coming out around me. And third, I am out on the ocean.
Nothing nearby—my ship far out at sea.
It’s a bright, mild midday, a low wind whipping the waves around the ship. As I come to, Bjorn and Ström, and Mikkel groan, pushing up all around me to sitting with different variations of their hands on their heads. It’s clear that whatever curse Alfhild Fey laid on me, it affected all of us. We’re all coming to at the exact same time.
Though I see Lærke nearby in the boat—not moving.
With a cry, Mikkel goes to her. He presses his fingersto her throat, taking her pulse; I see something inside him ease, as he realizes she’s not dead, just out cold like we were.
Something about the curse laid on Lærke is worse than what was done to the rest of us, however. As if Alfhild knew she couldn’t take a risk with the more powerful Thorsen twin waking, I feel several Bloodrune mind-curses riddled all through Lærke now.
Securing her in a dark, endless slumber.
“Fuck!” Mikkel roars as he loses it. Roaring to the waves, he pulls Lærke into his lap, cradling her to him, though she doesn’t wake. He’s still dressed only in his black silk pajama pants, and Lærke has on her sleep shift.
Alfhild must have some sense of propriety, however, because she’s had me dressed in a purple silk slip that must be Lærke’s, and put green and crimson silk sleep pants on Ström and Bjorn, respectively. We look like a little pajama party, about to get started, except we’re on a boat in the middle of nowhere.
And nobody can seem to raise their power—no matter how hard we try.
“What in seven hells did she do to us?” Bjorn growls now as I feel him try to push his drake’s power into one hand and shift it into talons. His hand does nothing, though I feel his drake’s energy flow into it.
None of us shifting, though we all try now.
“Alfhild has her ways,” Ström says as he focuses everything he has, but only produces a slight green-red shimmer in the air from his magic. Basically useless.
“She’s a master of mind-magics, and curses,” Mikkel snarls now as he cradles Lærke to him. Like a pretty rag doll, she’s out cold, her head lolling to one side as he holds her. “I remember it now, since my memories have come back. Alfhild was far more powerful than either Lærke or me, alone. We have talent with what our minds can do, but Alfhild is thrice that. She’s old… I recall she mentioned at some point that she was well over a thousand years old. Power even Lærke and I can’t ever hope to match.”
“Fuck. She never told me that. I only ever assumed she was maybe a hundred years older than me. If that,” Ström says, making a fist, as if he’d like to pummel her.
“She had you so far cursed with her power you didn’t know which end was up.” Mikkel glances at Ström. “I hated it, but it made Lærke beyond furious. She couldn’t stand to see you being used like that. I couldn’t either… but there was little we could do, since Alfhild’s power was so tremendous. Other than play her game.”
“She paid for your club’s expansion for your silence about Ström,” I say now, watching Mikkel. The wind gusts in the open-hulled boat and it riffles his hair. I see his dark waves shine with ribbons of auburn in the sunlight, something I’ve never noticed before.
“We helped her on a few heists, when she needed more than just her own mind-talents… but yes.” Mikkel gazes at me. “Lærke and I didn’t want to do it, but she had so much more power than we did. She could have forced us to do her bidding, like she did with Ström, so we opted to make a deal. We would help her when needed and hold our silence about what she was doing. In return, she would fund our new clubs, which we wanted to open beyond Copenhagen. It was a decent deal. Rather than become her slaves.”
“You betrayed your friend,” Bjorn snorts, his all-gold gaze fierce upon Mikkel, “for cash.”
“We did what we could not to become like him, bound to her every whim,” Mikkel growls back, though his dark eyes are sad as he looks at Ström. “For what it’s worth, when we could still remember what was happening, we looked for a cure for you. We searched high and low for something that could break her spell on you, or amplify our own mind-magics enough that we could do it ourselves. No luck.”
