I intended to show her my rage, to make a promise with the hatred and fury she should certainly see, but instead, she tilts her head to the side and pouts.
“I’ll make it so you can sleep, love. You’ll need your strength with how much blood I’ll be taking.”
Before I can be annoyed that she looked at me and felt pity, I’m asleep, walking through the barren fields of Iceland once more.
36
ROMAN
An original vampireis sitting on my front stoop. Margot is inside, staring at me through the window with wide eyes as Nico pulls up to the curb.
Slowly, I get out of the passenger seat and approach Agnarr. His long hair is tied back loosely, out of his face. He stands when he sees me, thin and gaunt, and the t-shirt he’s wearing hangs from his frame like loose skin. He looks half-dead, and nothing at all like Gwyn.
“Where is she?”
“My brother has her,” he responds in his thick accent.
“What do you want?” I ask. There is no limit to what I’ll do. I shouldn’t have let her leave last night. After losing Remy, I should have kept her at my side. It doesn’t matter that it was her gun or that I was distracted by admitting I fucking love her. She went inside to see if he could be saved, sparing me from unfathomable nightmares, and I fucking let her leave.
“Your help,” he says, narrowing his eyes.
“I’ll do it. Name what you want,” I say, inching up the sidewalk.
“I want your help to get her back,” he says.
“Yes, I know. What the fuck do you want me to do? What’s the trade-off?” My hands curl into fists, fingernails embedding in my flesh. I won’t forgive myself if something happens to her.
My fangs extend, and I let him see. I don’t care if he can control my body and end me in a second. If that’s what happens, I’ll do my best to maim him before I go.
“I am not communicating well,” he says, rubbing a hand down his face. “We will work together to get her back.”
Nico moves to stand beside me, giving Agnarr a curious look. “You aren’t working with Ketill?”
The vampire visibly balks at the question. “My brother is a dead man.” Neither one of us moves, and Agnarr sighs. “We need to act quickly, but I see I must explain.”
I raise a brow.
“Gwyn is not a hunter. Hunters are not…real. They are something else. A different meaning. They do not hunt vampires. Ketill has ruined everything—first with the runes Ansi left behind, and then with my—what is the word…” he says, trailing off for a moment. “Reputation! My reputation. But I was there!” he shouts. He begins to mutter in his native tongue, and I only catch bits and pieces of what he’s saying. I don’t know what I expected from a man who has Slumbered for a few centuries, at least.
This could be some sort of trap for all I know, a method to punish me for allowing Gwyn to infiltrate the coven. But if the cost of not listening to him is losing her forever, I have to take that chance.
“Ketill called them hunters to strike fear. But that is not what Ansi meant. The true word for what Gwyn’s mother was—what Gwyn is half of—is something like partner. Félagi. Half of a whole. Lifemate. Mate.”
“But they have hunted vampires for centuries,” Nico says.
Meanwhile, my heart constricts.
Every muscle in my body contracts, and a cool sweat breaks out across my back. Because it’s a certain truth. Now that he’s said it, I understand. She’s the other half of me—and I might fucking lose her.
“Why does your brother have her? Ketill?” I ask, exhaling through clenched teeth.
“She is a hybrid. Born from vampire and mate, she is stronger than vampire alone. Her blood is more…diverse. He wants strength while maintaining purity. He defaced Ansi’s markings in the cave, making that lineage seem like a threat—to keep power over them.Hehas been the one hunting. When Bjorn and Ketill cursed me to Slumber, it was for power. The félagi were never able to properly Ascend, unable to connect with a vampire. It kept them weak. It kept their offspring weak. Everything you think you know is a falsehood!”
He’s pacing on the small landing at the top of my stoop, and I’m not quite following. He sounds fucking insane, but I need him to find Gwyn. He’s gesturing, using his hands to talk wildly, and it almost reminds me of Gwyn last night. When she’d showed up at my house, ranting about being chased, waving that fucking gun around as she spoke.
And I didn’t hesitate to believe her for a goddamn second.
So, though I might be dooming myself by listening to Agnarr, what choice do I have?