Page 58 of Vow of the Undead
Stepping into the hall, my foot caught on something small. I stumbled forward, catching myself with the heel of my palm on the opposite wall. Pain radiated through my hand and snaked up my arm, at the same time that a screech echoed through the hall with a chilling pitch. My blood went cold as I whipped around.
A dark blur darted into the long hall I’d first come down. Whatever it was left behind an oversized cat with thick gray fur. It twined around my legs lazily rubbing against the smooth fabric of my skirt.
Freya’s cats.
“It’s over?” I breathed. The first trial was over. Freya had confirmed it with this vision of the cats gifted to her.
“Yes.”A voice descended upon my mind, curling with eagerness.
I didn’t know if it was safe to believe it yet. But it was real, Freya’s trial ended andI’d…passed.
The dark gray cat came sauntering back around the corner, having forgiven me for tripping over him.
This couldn’t be the end. I hadn’t learned where the runestones were kept. King Drakkar gave me nothing. Would the next trial give me more?
Where was the lost history? How could I expose a vampire king and his council of monsters without it? King Drakkar was supposed to be vulnerable when I tracked him down.
And perhaps he was.
Hunger had left his eyes a haze of red, the anger made him reckless, and it almost seemed like he was running from me now. Running from a willing victim, like he didn’t want to hurt me. If King Drakkar truly cared for me, maybe that was the real vulnerability.
Maybe that was my key to where the runestones were locked away.
It was that or trying to convince a council of undead creatures not to send the witches they hated to death at sea. Right.
I ducked back into the room he’d dragged me in. In a desperate hurry, I searched for anything hidden, any hatch, any false wall, but the room was a simple bedchamber, without a fireplace. I tried to the next door, then finally, the room the council members had disappeared into.
Disappointment fell heavy on my shoulders when I discovered it was nothing more than a meeting place. The runestones were probably hidden far more carefully than in a room near where the council might frequent.
I stood in the hall, my arms hanging limp and helplessly at my sides. Though I wasn’t alone, the cats still slunk around my legs, I was empty of any ideas.
What was my next step?
The voice slithered into my thoughts again. No vision came with it, instead, this voice spoke as if part of me, though it came with that masculine energy again.
“Freya warned you? Told you he’s a threat. A danger. A ruin wrapped in skin.
But tell me, since when did danger feel that good?
Curious little thing you are. And curiosity, well... it always follows, doesn't it?
Follow the cold.
Follow the screams.
Follow and find what I have to share, and there,
Fenrir, my son, the wolf, will appear.”
Screams? This voice, it had to be Loki, he was Fenrir's father, after all. According to the vision, his trial came next, and only the God of chaos would encourage me to seek after danger. To seek pleasure from a monstrous king.
To go toward the screaming.
I wasn’t flooded with the awe and admiration I felt whenever Freya’s visions reached me. Loki was unpredictable and troublesome. But for now, he was all I had.
“I need a trail,” I whispered. The larger cat’s ears pricked.
I squeezed my eyes shut and listened. Surely enough a cry echoed from somewhere in the distance. I didn’t breathe as I focused on the desperate plea. King Drakkar had been hungry, which must have meant this cry came from a victim he was feeding on.
