Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 37501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 188(@200wpm)___ 150(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 188(@200wpm)___ 150(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
"Kara, wait," I murmur when she takes a step forward, eager to go see Ing and hear what he has to share with her.
"He needs me, Stephan," she protests, glancing back over her shoulder at me. The distress stamped across her face feels like a wrecking ball working on my guts. Whatever the wolf is sending her…isn't good.
What the fuck happened?
I don't know, but I don't like it. The entire forest feels off. Sinister. As if the restlessness and unease the animals feel has transferred to the trees and the dirt itself.
"You stay behind me," I say. "And if I give you an order, you obey it."
She hesitates for only a moment before nodding.
I step up in front of her, drawing my ímun-laukr from the scabbard. Behind me, I feel her Light blaze hotter, searing into me as she calls on more of it. I grunt in satisfaction, pleased she's prepared to defend herself even if the thought that her wolf friend could harm her does seem preposterous to her.
We stride toward the ruins with her Light spilling around us, leading the way. I place my feet carefully to avoid crunching the leaves underfoot. Only to fight a smile when my effort is immediately rendered moot. She tramples through the underbrush without a care, as if she never learned to hunt or track.
Not that I suppose moving in silence matters at this juncture. Ing already knows we're coming. He probably heard us long before we got this close.
I step into the ruins, carefully checking every shadow.
A soft warning growl whispers from the back corner. I focus my attention that way, and see the wolf pacing in the dark, his head low to the ground.
"Ing!" Kara cries, shifting to scurry around me.
I throw my arm out in front of her, halting her in her tracks as my eyes quickly pick out another, thicker shadow at his feet. Another wolf. Only this one isn't moving.
Kara notices the second animal at the same time and cries out softly, a broken sound of distress and horror. She rips herself free of my hold, stumbling forward.
"Kara, nei!" I warn her. "Don't touch him."
"Oh, Stephan." She jerks to a stop as her Light falls on the wolf at Ing's feet. It's badly injured, blood staining his muzzle. One leg is badly deformed, as if it were broken in multiple places.
But the…stench…coming from it is sickeningly familiar. It's subtle, so faint I doubt we'd notice it at all if the animal weren't losing blood so rapidly. But this close, with his blood all over him, there's no mistaking it.
"Don't touch him, Valkyrie. That smell is varulv poison."
She turns wide eyes in my direction, horror stamped across her beautiful face. "Varulv? In Valhalla?"
I nod grimly, glancing at Ing, who still paces restlessly around his fallen packmate. "Can you ask him what happened?"
Kara takes a tentative step toward Ing, lifting her hand toward him. He darts out of the shadows like a streak, pressing up against her thigh. Her fingers sink into the thick fur of his coat, a soothing noise whispering from her throat.
I take another step toward the wolf lying in the mud and muck, keeping my eyes on him. But he isn't getting up again. The poison running through his veins will kill him soon if his injuries don't.
For centuries, the Forsaken twisted the minds of shifters, subjugating their souls. What was left behind wasn't man and wasn't wolf. It was something else—something born of the Dark. The varulv are more demon than anything, and until Tori Healed Reaper of a bite, they killed everything they sank their teeth into.
I'd call her now…but she won't get here in time. No one will.
"Oh, Ing," Kara whispers, her shoulders shaking as she cries softly.
He chuffs mournfully, his grief obvious.
"He says his pack was hunting and they stumbled onto the Dark Ones. The Dark Ones attacked from all sides. They tried to fight them off, but every time his packmates bit one, something happened to them." She wipes tears, her bottom lip quivering. "They howled like they were burning alive. He and…" She pauses for a moment. "His n-name means rider of the hunt, but that's not entirely right. It's a specific hunt. It feels almost…sacred? I'm not sure."
"Oskoreia," I murmur. "The Wild Hunt."
Ing chuffs as if in recognition.
"Yes, that's it," Kara says. "Oskoreia."
Jesus Christ. I glance back at the dying wolf, my blood running cold. I've never much believed in signs and symbols, but I've heard the Fae talk of Oskoreia. Odin only ever called for the Hunt before war. Those who witnessed it knew it meant war was on the horizon and began their preparations.
If this is meant to be a sign that we're running out of time, it's a giant flaming arrow pointing toward the end.
"He managed to get away without being bitten, but he says the Dark Ones attacked Rider as they were fleeing. Rider managed to make it here before…" she trails off, her shoulders shaking again.