Magic Gifts (Kate Daniels #5.4)(23)
Author: Ilona Andrews

"The vikings don’t like to say Håkon’s name. The glade isn’t that far from here and he might hear."

"What is he?"

He and Curran had that in common. Wave a secret in front of them and they would foam at the mouth trying to learn it. "He’s a draugr."

The vamp hopped on the cart and peered at me, its eyes only a couple of inches from my face. "A draugr? A mythical Norse undead that supposed to guard the treasure of its grave?"

"Get off my cart," Curran growled.

The undead hopped down. The vampire’s grotesque face twisted into an odd expression: the corners of its cavernous mouth pinched up, while its lips gaped open, displaying its fangs. It stared at me with blood red eyes and bopped its head forward and back a few times.

"What are you doing?"

"I’m laughing at you."

Kicking the vampire in the face with my foot would be counterproductive at this point.

"When I was a journeyman, I spent eighteen months in Norway, looking for draugar. I’ve camped in the cemeteries in sub-zero temperatures, I’ve scoured the fjords, I’ve dived into sea caves in freezing water. It was the worst year and a half of my life. In those eighteen months I didn’t find any credible evidence of draugar’s existence. Trust me when I say this: they don’t exist. Hence, my use of the word mythical. As in not real."

I briefly contemplated punching the vampire in the nose. It wouldn’t hurt Ghastek any, but it would be immensely satisfying. "This draugr exists. Plenty of people have met him."

"Oh, I have no doubt that they had met something, but it wasn’t a draugr. Don’t you see the signs? The mysterious glade the path to which is guarded by a giant. The legendary undead with magical powers, whom you can only meet once and those who disobey that rule die a gruesome death." The vampire waved his front limbs, fingers spread. "Woo-ooo. Frightening."

"Do you have a point?"

"Those bearded horn-helmeted bandits are conning you, Kate."

"You’ve got to be kidding me."

"There is no need to feel bad about this. You’re a capable fighter, proficient with a blade and you have intelligence and tenacity, but you don’t work with the undead. You have very little familiarity with the basic principles of necromancy, beyond its most practical applications. You lack the tools to recognize the hoax."

The urge to grab the mind of the nearest vampire and use it to beat Ghastek’s bloodsucker to a bloody pulp was overwhelming. Perhaps, that’s why Voron insisted on steering me away from necromancy. He knew there would be times the temptation to show off would be too much.

"No worries. It’s a forgivable mistake," Ghastek said. "However, it will cost us a day and the use of five vampires."

"Humor me."

"Oh I intend too. I’ve had a stressful day and breaking this farce open will prove a wonderful way to vent the pressure."

The vampire sauntered off.

"He doesn’t like to be wrong." Tracy’s vamp said. I caught a hint of humor in her voice.

I couldn’t care less if he liked it. As long as his vampires stood between me and the draugr, it would buy me a couple of extra seconds to get away.

*** *** ***

The old road led deeper and deeper into the forest. The trees grew taller and thicker, their long limbs thrusting at each other, as if trying to push their neighbors out of the way. Mist swirled between the trunks, first an ethereal haze shimmering along the ground, then a thicker blue fog that hugged the road, laying in wait. It swallowed the sounds: the hoof beats of the horses, the creaking of the cart, the occasional sigh from the deer in the back, all seemed muted.

Ahead a stone arc rose above the path, grey slabs of rocks tinted with moss. I halted The Dude. The cart rocked to a stop.

"There is a path leading north just past the arc. We go on foot from here." I hopped off the cart. "I need one of you to carry the deer."

A purple bloodsucker crawled up on the cart. Sickle claws sliced at the rope securing the animal, and the vampire pulled the deer off and slung it over its shoulder.

"Which way will you be coming?" Curran asked.

"The glade is north east from here." I pointed to a tall oak to the left.

Curran pulled me close.

Ghastek’s vampire rolled his eyes.

"Remember the plan?" Curran said in my ear.

"Get in, get the information, and run like hell out of there."

"See you in a few hours."

I brushed his lips with mine. "See you."

I grabbed my backpack and headed up the path.

The mist grew thicker. Moisture hung in the air, tinted with the odor of rotting vegetation and fresh soil. Somewhere in the distance a bird screamed. No movement troubled the still woods. No squirrels chattered in the canopy, no small game scurried away at our approach. Nothing except for vampires gliding alongside the path, their emaciated shapes flashing between the trees.

The path veered right and opened into a small glade. Tall pines framed it, the enormous dark trunks scratching at the sky. A carpet of dark pines needles sheathed the ground. Here and there rocks trust from the forest floor.

"Put the deer right there." I pointed to the center of the glade. The vampire unloaded the deer and hopped aside.

"I suppose we wait until the magic?" Ghastek inquired.

"You got it." I sat on a fallen pine.

The vampire’s shoulders rose up and down. Ghastek must’ve sighed. "I suppose we might as well treat this seriously." The vampire raised his left forelimb. A long yellow claw pointed at a tall birch on the left. "OP there." A claw moved to the right to a pine on the other side of the glade. "OP there. Give me a perimeter assessment."

Two purple vampires scattered took a running start and scrambled up the tree. The third dashed into the bushes. Only Ghastek and Tracy remained. His vampire sat on my right, her vampire sat on my left. Peachy.

A minute passed. Another.

Ghastek’s vamp lay down. "If half of the things they said about draugar were true, it would revolutionize necromantic science. According to legend, they’re the spirits of warriors who rise from the grave to guard their buried possessions. They see the future, they control the elements, they shapeshift into animals. They turn into smoke and become giants."

"Not at the same time," I told him.

"What?"

"You said they turn into smoke and become giants. Not at the same time. They’re solid in giant form."

"You’re still clinging to this fallacy?"

I leaned forward. "What would you have done if you had found a draugr in Norway, Ghastek?"