Page 95 of Vow of the Undead
“They?”
“They called, they called, they called and…” Her voice faded, she raised her index finger to me. I finally took a good look at her beyond King Drakkar’s resemblance. Cuts and bruises covered her arms. Long scars were dragged down her neck like stripes. One of her ears was mangled, as if smashed. “You must not answer.”
“What?”
Her eyes darkened as her chin dropped to her throat. Staring at me with unblinking eyes, she gulped rasping breaths. “Gods are evil. You will be too, their chosen, their vessel. They hurt and hurt and hurt and we all hurt.” Her words built to a sob and she suddenly spluttered, tears dripping over her eyes as she sank to the floor with them, her back following the length of the bed frame.
I closed my gaping mouth and steeled my face. This poor woman didn’t know what she was saying. How long had she been held captive here, fed this filth about the Gods from her son? She was human, which meant she may have witnessed him turn into the monster he was today. Now that he was severed from the Gods, he must have wanted her to hate them. But why the…the hurt? She said it as if the Gods themselves had come down and caused the scratches across her arms.
Who else had access to her but the king? Her own son had trapped and tortured his mother.
Acid churned in the depths of my gut, but it was the rage between my breasts that burned. If he could do this to his own mother, what had he done to Ragna?
Determination set my jaw. My entire being quivered with an all-consuming need to cut the king down.
I peeled my dry lips apart and spoke in the most gentle pitch I could muster even with the fire blazing in my chest. “Do you know of any others here besides you?”
With a shaking hand, she wiped at her cheeks to sweep the tears away. “My boy before he was like a terrible ghost. My boy and the others. The others follow him. They follow him above. So sick and cruel and bloody. They feed, always at the coldest hour.” She shook to emphasize this. “Now. Servants bleed and it drips here.” She pointed to the ground where dark spots mottled the floor. I glared down my nose at them. “Drip. Drip.”
“I’ll be back for you?—”
“No!” She suddenly flung forward, closing the distance between us with her hands thrown out. She shoved me back “Not with that evil. Never come back.”
I ducked away from the woman.
She followed me to the wall beneath the hatch where the stones were curved. Repeating her demand, she yelled louder and louder until I was out of the hidden room and into the king’s bedchambers. She scaled the wall twice as fast as I had and slammed the hatch closed, nearly catching my fingers between the door and the floor.
After a moment of shock, I scooted back. Now I understood exactly how easy it was for King Drakkar to rip mothers away from their children. He trapped and tormented his own mother, likely no longer caring for their relationship since he’d become a vampire.
King Drakkar deserved the scars and bruises that riddled his mother’s body, but when I destroyed him, there’d be nothing left.
Climbing to my feet, I was more resolved than ever to hunt him down.
Itracked the vision, slipping into the throne room through the king’s entrance so that I’d come from behind the throne. Though none of this made sense. Why would King Drakkar be sitting alone in an empty throne room?
It was not for me to question Freya’s visions. She’d led me this far. The Gods had given me an escape from this marriage and a way to save my mother and all witches.
The stake had become loose during my fall into his mother’s room, but it didn’t matter because I pulled it out from beneath the chain and wrapped my fingers around the end. With the weapon in my hand now, I was emboldened.
I moved as silently as possible, my eyes scanning every inch of the room.
Bronze candelabras suspended above me with low candles flickering. Wax dripped to the smooth floor, spotting the polished black stone with dots of beige. The mess was a sure sign the council had taken their vessels—many of the servants—with them to the shore at The Sea of Skalds.
While his council forced exiles and half the Grimward to set sail, the king sat on his throne, being fed blood in a goblet.
I gritted my teeth, gripping the stake in my fist harder. Iwas ready to sink it into his chest, to end his reign the way I should have let Ragna end it weeks ago. Without the king, chaos will unfold, just as Loki would want it. In the interim, I would be ready to hunt each member of the council and then the courtiers until Mara’s Keep was stripped of vampires and the people of Vylheim took back their safety.
This was the duty of the huntress.
Kill.
Kill.
Kill.
I twitched and sucked in a sharp breath as I drew closer to the throne. The massive chair sat only a few steps from the servant’s entrance that came directly from the hall across the kitchens. From here, a whiff of charred sour bread stung my nose.
Silently, I crept forward, the vast space threatening to catch and carry every scuff of my boots. The dim room looked entirely new and yet almost comforting in its familiarity. It felt like years ago when I’d flooded into the throne room with my father flanking me and half of the people of Mara’s Keep scrambling to get a glimpse of the king and his council.
