Embrace of the Damned Page 9

  “No. Not right away. We still don’t know anything about her, don’t know why she’s been hidden the way she has. It’s not like the seidhr to do that, not without good reason. I’ll take her to my keep. Call a Valkyrie, train her.”

  Erik regarded him with speculation, his icy blue eyes sparkling. “You want to keep her.”

  A muscle in his jaw worked. Yes, he wanted to keep her. Forever. That was the problem. Yet the woman was seidhr. Even if Loki hadn’t put a time limit on his relationship with her, that alone would be grounds for no touching.

  It was going to be hard not to touch her.

  “Safe,” Broder answered in a clipped tone. “I want to keep her safe.”

  “Ah.” Erik paused. “I have no doubt Loki has selected the right man for the job.”

  “We’re leaving immediately.”

  “Does the woman know that?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Remember, I met her.” Erik smiled. “Good luck with that.”

  Jessa leaned against a wall and watched Broder get the pat-down from hell at airport security. Before they’d gone through, she’d bet him a drink at one of the bars on the other side of security that he’d be flagged. Of course he had been. No TSA agent in their right mind would let a dangerous-looking guy like him pass without close scrutiny, yet she was beginning to doubt the female agent who’d flagged him had done it for strictly security reasons.

  Finally Broder was let through and he joined Jessa on the other side. “Did you get her number?” she asked, falling into step beside him.

  “What?” He looked genuinely bewildered.

  She rolled her eyes and repositioned her bag on her shoulder. “That agent back there. A bomb wasn’t the ‘package’ she was trying to discover.”

  Broder gave her a blank look, then checked his boarding ticket for, presumably, their flight number so they could figure out their gate. Gah. He was hopeless.

  “So you never notice it when women find you attractive? Do you miss all the female heads that turn when you walk past them? How is it that you’ve lived so many years on this planet and not realized the effect you have on the opposite sex?”

  He shrugged and guided her onto a moving walkway. “I don’t pay attention to such things. No reason.”

  She gave up. He was too busy killing demons, maybe.

  She spotted a bathroom and veered toward it once they were off the walkway. “I’ll just be a minute.” It was a long flight to Glasgow from Dulles Airport. She hated the idea of leaving the country and had made her opinions known, but going meant answering questions.

  And she really needed those answers.

  So, like it or not, she was getting on that plane.

  Broder narrowed his eyes at her, looking from her face to the bathroom. His thoughts were clear.

  “I’m pretty sure I’ll be all right just five minutes out of your care,” she called as she neared it.

  “Stay alert.”

  She nodded. She remembered the incident in the parking garage with perfect clarity. “I will.”

  After she’d finished and had washed her hands, she took a second to give herself a critical look in the mirror.

  So this was what a Nordic witch looked like. She turned her face this way and that, running her fingers over her cheeks. Her face didn’t look any different from anyone else’s, yet according to Broder she wouldn’t have to worry about wrinkles for a very, very long time.

  The idea of possessing magick was odd enough, but possessing what amounted to immortality was almost brain numbing. She hadn’t thought much about it since she’d been told, mostly because she had no frame of reference in which to judge the news. She couldn’t even imagine being so long-lived. Her only measure of immortality was Broder and judging by him, it wasn’t going to be all that much fun.

  How could Margaret have kept these things secret? It was possible, of course, that Margaret had never known about her background, or even that her parents had been seidhr. That seemed unlikely, though, considering the photos she’d found in her attic. Perhaps she’d been waiting to tell her about her strange genetic makeup.

  Margaret’s death had been unexpected. She’d died of a heart attack while out jogging. Otherwise, at fifty-three years old, she’d been the picture of good health. That was one reason her death had hit Jessa so hard—the suddenness of it. It had rocked the foundations of her world.

  And those foundations had just kept on rocking, but she refused to let the building fall down.

  Broder had told her that the reason her magick had begun to show so abruptly was probably because of the depth of her emotional response to Margaret’s death. Even without training, he’d told her, a witch’s or shaman’s abilities could manifest if some dramatic or transformative experience occurred.

  She stared into her brown eyes in the mirror’s reflection. Ironically, she wished for her aunt’s presence in her life right now more than anything. She just wanted to curl up in her arms and sob, tell Margaret all her fears. Margaret would stroke her hair and tell her everything would be all right.

  Grief welled up in her and she tamped it down. Overwhelming emotion was one thing she couldn’t afford right now. Gritting her teeth against the urge to cry, she lowered her head for a moment. Suddenly she realized the busy bathroom had gone eerily empty.

  She raised her head, frowning. That was odd, considering how packed the airport was right now. A toilet flushed behind her and a woman emerged from the stall, trailing a rolling carry-on behind her. She gave Jessa no notice as she washed her hands, gave herself a once-over in the mirror, and then left.

  Jessa relaxed. She was being a little too paranoid. She gave her reflection one last glance, making sure no tears could be seen in her eyes, fluffed her hair, and headed for the door. She’d only gone a couple of steps when a woman burst from one of the bathroom stalls and collided with her. Jessa fell back against the bank of sinks with a surprised yelp.

  It was no woman; it was a demon.

  She had a millisecond to figure that out before the demon was on her, fangs descended and flashing, eyes bled black. Sharp teeth nipped at her shoulder, catching the fabric of her shirt. Her skin burned from the thing’s touch. Jessa pushed back with every drop of strength and panic in her body, managing to rock the demon back on its heels. She lifted her leg and kicked her boot solidly into the demon’s chest.

  The demon slammed back against one of the stall doors and staggered inside, nearly falling into the toilet. Jessa made a mad dash for it, but the demon, fast as a blink, tackled her from behind. They scuffled on the floor, Jessa punching and kicking, doing everything she could to avoid those wicked, snapping jaws.

  She landed a solid punch to the demon’s throat. It made a gagging sound and its eyes bulged. She followed it up with a hard shove to the side and she managed to wiggle away from the thing … but she was on the wrong side of the room. She scrambled to her feet and watched the demon do the same thing, blocking her path to the exit. Slowly she backed away from it, her mind frantically casting about for ways to defeat this thing.

  She had no dagger and neither did Broder. He’d sent his blade by special courier to Scotland, knowing he’d never get it onto the plane in his carry-on and not trusting his suitcase wouldn’t get lost. The only way to kill a demon without a special Loki dagger was to decapitate it … and the only weapon she had were her bare hands.

  Jessa stared in horror at the demon, who was circling her, hissing, and blocking her way out. “Broder!” she screamed. She had no idea if he could hear her.

  God, she hoped he heard her!

  A bare half second later and Broder was there, swinging the demon around to face him. The thing made an inhuman squeal of terror at the sight of him. Immediately the demon’s offensive became defensive. It didn’t matter. Broder’s huge hands closed around either side of its head and prepared to twist.

  Jessa turned her face away. Even though the demon had wanted her dead just moments before, she couldn’t be
ar to watch the brutally cold way Broder dealt with it.

  Soon the demon was so much ice sliding across the floor. Jessa stared in horror at a chunk of the demon that had come to a rest at the toe of her boot, then slowly raised her gaze to Broder.

  He stood staring at her with fierce protectiveness in his eyes, his chest heaving and his dark eyes shining with rage.

  Wide-eyed, she stood shivering. The patches of her flesh where the demon had touched her burned with pain.

  Broder closed the space between them and in a few moments every trace of her injuries was gone.

  Behind him a middle-aged woman trailing a rolling carry-on entered. She stopped short near the doorway, taking in the odd sight of an unmistakable male in the women’s bathroom and the ice on the floor. “Uh, everything okay in here?”

  “Everything is just great,” Jessa answered a little too brightly. “Dropped my drink. Be careful not to slip.”

  The woman’s gaze slipped to Broder and she raised her eyebrows.

  Jessa took him by the arm. “He just got confused and wandered in here. Doesn’t speak English.” She offered a friendly, probably slightly crazy-looking smile to the gaping woman and led Broder out of the bathroom.

  Once out, she grabbed her carry-on—luckily no one had spotted it unattended and tried to blow it up—and they headed to the gate. Every molecule of her body was on high alert now. Every person she passed was a potential demon.

  “I thought you said you’d be okay out of my protection for five minutes,” Broder growled, falling into step beside her.

  “Yeah, apparently I was wrong. No more bathroom breaks for me.” She was still shaking.

  SEVEN

  Jessa shifted in her seat, but she couldn’t shake her unease. Funny how being stalked by demons could set a girl on edge. Here she was in first class and headed to Scotland. Too bad she couldn’t enjoy it. Too bad this trip wasn’t a vacation.

  She’d lied about this trip to those close to her. After all, she’d had to explain her absence, right? Her best friend, Lillie, had pressed her for details, wondering about her spur-of-the-moment decision to visit a country she’d never expressed any interest in. She’d had to fib a little and it had hurt her heart, but she needed to protect the people she loved.

  Lillie had clearly also been hurt, wondering why Jessa hadn’t called earlier and why she wasn’t leaning on her more for support. Lillie thought this trip had to do with her aunt dying, that Jessa felt she needed to get away for a while. That was a conclusion Jessa was happy to foster because it was more believable than the truth … but she hated that her friend thought she wasn’t needed. She needed Lillie more than ever right now and it hurt somewhere deep inside not to be able to pour her heart out to her.

  She settled back into the comfy airplane seat; she hadn’t known they even existed. At least they were traveling in style. She couldn’t complain about that.

  Broder had dressed in a low-collared black linen shirt and a pair of tight-fitting jeans that he made look damn good. He’d managed not to get a drop of demon blood on himself in the bathroom. He looked ready for first class, despite the casual dress, although Broder still looked awkward. He was too small for the seat, even though by airplane standards there was a lot of room, and kept shifting uneasily.

  Perhaps a man like him, raised in the time he’d been raised in, would never be truly comfortable with air travel. Broder would probably be much more at ease at the helm of a Viking longship. Jessa could totally see him there, too, battling the icy tempest of the northern seas, water glistening on his bare chest, his hair long and trailing—

  “What?” he barked at her, clearly on edge and with a glare in his eyes.

  Jerking her gaze away, she muttered, “Sorry.” Apparently she’d been too busying imagining him half naked on the stern of a longboat, ocean mist caught in his hair, to realize she’d been staring. She shook herself mentally. “Just wondering why you’re fidgeting so much.”

  “I hate planes. It’s not natural to be up here in the air like this.” He reached across her and slid the blind down to block the view of the clouds below them. “Give me a boat and the ocean any day.”

  So she’d been right.

  “You did really well back there,” he grumbled. “In the bathroom. Not many untrained humans or witches could hold off a demon that way.”

  “It’s amazing the skills that come to the fore when you’re fighting for your life.” She thought about his words, then said, “You said untrained human. Does that mean there are humans who know about the Blight? Are there humans who fight them?” The cabin was dark and quiet; everyone was sleeping. They could talk about this now without fear of being overheard.

  He nodded. “There are. Not many, but groups of them.”

  “Where?”

  He shrugged. “All over. We’d prefer they didn’t mess with the Blight, but can’t stop them.”

  “Interesting.”

  He shifted in his seat again. “They get killed a lot.”

  Yes, she could imagine. Snaking a hand out from her travel blanket, she rubbed a gummy eye and glanced at the little progress airplane on the map at the front of the cabin. “We’re almost there.”

  He moved in his seat again, as if trying to stretch his back. She’d been to Europe once with her aunt, so she knew that the flight attendants would begin serving breakfast soon and everyone would start waking up. She hadn’t managed one second of sleep during the flight and she knew Broder hadn’t, either. They had no idea if any demons had come along for the ride or not; that really didn’t bode well for napping.

  At least he’d taken off his duster. It wasn’t far, though. He’d stuffed it under the seat in front of him. She pointed at it. “What’s the story with the ancient coat?”

  He hesitated a moment, then pulled it from under the seat and opened it for her to see. It smelled like leather and his cologne. “Look here.” He pointed at a few faint markings, swoops and swirls done in a very light black.

  She leaned forward to examine them. They gave off a very faint pulse of energy. “What are those?”

  “Runes placed by the seidhr. Every brother has some object or piece of clothing imbued with this type of magick.”

  Something of the seidhr. She reached out and touched the markings. They sent a slight throb of magick up her arm. “What do they do?”

  “These runes let me know when there are demons about. They also provide me with a small amount of protection from the coldness of their touch. The coat also allows me a place to hide my dagger.”

  “That’s … amazing.”

  “That’s what you are.” He held her gaze for a long moment … then finally tore his gaze from her and replaced the duster under the seat in front of him and settled back into his chair.

  She glanced at him. “What happens when we get there?” He hadn’t exactly been forthcoming with the details, and she’d been too set on getting to Scotland to further discover who she was to worry about it too much. She understood the seidhr enclave was there and she was thrilled by the possibility she might finally get some answers.

  He studied her in the dim light. “I’ll take you to my keep in the Highlands. It is one of the most protected buildings in the world against the Blight. There you will be well defended and you will learn more of who you are. You will also train. You need to learn how to defend yourself.”

  “I did pretty well in the bathroom. You even said so.”

  “Not good enough.”

  “What the hell is good enough?”

  “Good enough is taking a demon’s head off on your own.”

  “I’m sorry I asked.”

  That light had entered his eyes again, the hungry one. Since discovering she was a witch, he’d been holding himself back from her, it seemed. She wondered about that. She wondered if, perhaps, the seidhr were somehow sacred in this new, strange world, if the Brotherhood were discouraged in some way from touching them.

  Jessa wasn’t sure if she should be
relieved or disappointed at that possibility.

  She pressed her lips together and concentrated on information gathering, in order to calm the beat of her heart at the look on his face. She wanted very much not to want him, but that didn’t seem to be a realistic desire. “The members of the Brotherhood are Nordic, right? So why would you have property in Scotland and not in Norway?”

  “My roots are in Norway. The weight of my past.” He paused. “Sometimes roots hold you back, hold you down. Some weights are too heavy to carry.”

  She considered that. Broder obviously had more than one dark secret and a hell of a tortured past. Of course he didn’t want much to do with the country where his bad memories had been made. She should have thought about that before she’d opened her mouth. Just because she was interested in her roots didn’t mean everyone else was.