Winter Lost

14

Mercy

“What did you shoot at?” asked Adam, hands on my shoulders, body tense. He looked at me as if he expected me to sprout wounds at any time.

In fact, I didn’t hurt anywhere. My headache was gone for the first time in a very long time. I must still be a bit muzzy, though, because I thought he asked me what I shot at when—

The room smelled of cordite, but it didn’t smell of blood anymore. I leaned over the bed to where Hugo’s body should have been—shot in the forehead like the goblins—but there was no body to be seen.

I pulled free of Adam’s light hold and climbed off the bed, my legs oddly wobbly—to kneel on the ground where the body had been. A pile of clothing, unbloodied—and also smelling of nothing except laundry soap—lay where Hugo’s body had been.

When I moved the clothes, I found Hugo’s revolver. There was a clunk—and I found the lead bullet from Adam’s gun that should have been rattling around inside Hugo’s skull. If Hugo’s body had still been where it belonged.

I was dimly aware that people came to the doorway while I tried to figure out what might have happened.

Adam, after a glance at me, shooed them all away, promising them a meeting by the fireplace. A meeting where everyone would tell everything they knew about what had been going on. Zane lingered until the rest were routed.

“The storm is abating,” he said. “Can you feel it?”

“Hrímnir has the artifact,” I mumbled. “Good. That’s good.”

Gary would be okay now, because unlike his brother, Hrímnir would keep his word.

I felt Adam’s gaze on the back of my neck, felt all the questions he didn’t ask me.

Finally, he said, “If she knows anything, we’ll tell you about it in a bit.” There was a growl in his voice, but it didn’t seem to bother Zane.

“This should be interesting,” Zane said. “I’ll see you in front of the fireplace.” He knocked lightly on the doorframe and strolled away.

When the others were gone, Adam knelt beside me. “Who did you shoot, Mercy?”

“Hugo,” I said. “He killed the goblins who stole the lyre—” My whole body shuddered, and I stumbled to a halt.

“Worry about that in a minute,” Adam said. “Come on, get up. You need to warm up.”

He wasn’t wrong. He took a moment to holster his 1911, then he saw me to the shower. When he was sure I was okay, he left to retrieve our luggage from our first room, so I could get dressed.

“Bless you,” I told him when he returned and handed me a battered pair of jeans and one of his sweatshirts. The sweatshirt was warm and soft, and I could have crawled into it and slept for a week. The jeans were icy and four inches too long. He must have gone out to the SUV and found them in the box of spare clothes.

“Hugo?” Adam asked, helping me to roll up the bottom of the jeans.

I stifled a huge yawn and said, “Tell me what happened to you first. I need a moment to string everything together in my brain so it sounds logical.”

He gave me an odd look and said, “We ran up the stairs. Emily was right, both goblins were dead with a shot to the head—looked like a larger-caliber bullet. We looked around. Then I heard a gunshot and ran back down. Ten minutes, maybe. Tell me about your ten minutes. They sound more interesting.”

“It would have been loud,” I said. Then clarified: “When the goblins were killed, it would have been loud. I’m surprised no one heard it.”

“We decided they were probably shot between the time Garmr attacked you and when we got you back to the room,” Adam said. “When no one else was in the lodge.”

“Hugo said he was sleeping when they stole the artifact from him,” I said. “I think that was when the frost giant called Garmr to attack me. He couldn’t be both Hugo and Garmr at the same time. Hugo woke up after Zane exorcised Garmr—I don’t know if that’s the right word for it. I imagine that he tracked the thieves down like you and I would.” I tapped my nose with my hand. “It wouldn’t have taken long. I wonder where he got the gun.” I paused. “Oh dear, I wonder if my brother gave it to him.”

“So Hugo was Garmr?” Adam grimaced at my nod but didn’t otherwise react. “I’ll secure the gun and we can ask Gary about it later.” He unloaded the revolver and put the bullets in his pocket and the gun in his duffel.

“I killed Hugo,” I told him. “It wasn’t murder.” It felt like it had been. I’d planned to kill him—hadn’t been able to see a way out of it. But if I’d murdered him, the spirit of the lake would have stopped me—or so Liam thought. “Self-defense.”

Adam said, “Hugo had the artifact—”

I waved my hands at him to stop his questions, gave another jaw-cracking yawn, and said, “Let me tell my part. I think if you start asking questions, I’ll start answering, and you’ll get the whole story sideways.” I yawned again.

Adam frowned at me, and I felt the tug of our mating bond and realized I still had it locked down tight so he couldn’t tell that I was just tired. I opened it—and Adam froze.

He inhaled sharply, once. Then he took two quick steps until he was standing in front of me. He put both of his hands on the sides of my face and looked into my eyes.

“Lord have mercy,” he said. His mouth opened as if he were going to say something further, but nothing came out. He closed his eyes, rested his forehead on mine—and dropped to his knees until his face was resting on my belly and his arms were tight around my hips. He was shaking.

“Adam?” I asked, more than somewhat alarmed. “Adam?”

“Zee said he’d done what he could,” Adam told me, “but he didn’t think it could be healed. He thought one day it would—all of the repairs he’d managed would just rip away.” He paused and his arms tightened. “That’s what happened, when Garmr attacked you, isn’t it? You were hurting so badly I could feel it even though you’d ratcheted down our bonds like tourniquets.”

“Sort of,” I allowed.

“And now?”

“My father is a sneaky rat bastard,” I told him. “He risked the end of the world to get my head fixed.”

Adam laughed without lifting his head. It was a soggy sort of laugh.

There was a knock at the door, and I looked up to see Elyna, her eyes soft. When she saw she had my attention, she said, “You’re having a moment. I’ll let everyone else know it will be another…” She lifted an eyebrow.

I thought of all that I had to tell Adam and said, “Ten minutes more. Maybe Liam could serve wine on our tab?”

She nodded. “I’ll tell him.” And then she strolled away.

When she was gone, Adam rose to his feet, kissed me like he meant it, and took a deep breath.

“You are fixed?”

I nodded. “Let’s sit on the bed and I’ll tell you all about my interesting day. I think I have to start with my visit with the frost giant.”

I fell asleep before I was finished with everything. Adam woke me up briefly.

“You’re fine because the spider and the spirit of the lake fixed you,” he said. “Hugo was Garmr wrapped in a human suit who thought he was real and knew he would die when the marriage took place because the Great Spell requires Garmr in a physical form. Just checking to make sure I have the whole story.”

I yawned and nodded. His version was shorter and better worded than mine was. “Been ten minutes,” I mumbled. “I’d better get up—”

He kissed me and tucked the covers around me. “Nope. Sleep. I’ll be your proxy.”

We gathered for the wedding just before dawn. There were still clouds in the sky, but they were softer clouds, lit by the glow of the moon. The wind was light and the snow had stopped entirely.

The bride’s dress was white trimmed in silvery lace. Rather than play down her firm muscles, the gown’s bare-shoulder-tight-to-the-waist silhouette showed off her strength. I could tell it was expensive because it also made her look delicate. And Tammy was tough because, although the storm was over, it was December in Montana and we were all outside standing beside the hot tubs. She had gooseflesh on her gooseflesh.

I’d assumed that we’d hold the wedding in front of the fireplace, where backless gowns would have been more comfortable. But the divine spirit of the lake was an important part of the magic, and no one could converse with her to make sure she could come inside the building. Liam assured us that it would be enough to hold the ceremony by the side of her lake, because that was holy ground.

In solidarity, the groom did not wear a jacket over his silver silk shirt. All of his clothes were borrowed from Liam, so the shirt was tight in the shoulders and the pants were about six inches too long. Zane was my height, a couple of inches shorter than Tammy. I hadn’t noticed it until they stood together.

The storm had gone, but it had left feet of snow everywhere as a calling card. We had decorated around the snow with fairy lights (the mundane kind) and set floating candles in the hot tubs.

The bride’s father and his pack wore their dress uniforms. In the light of the lodge, the police uniforms were deep blue, but out here beside the lake they looked black. Elyna had chosen a dress of the same navy blue with gold trim. The cold bothered her not at all. Jack wore a suit that looked black—but was probably the same deep blue that all of the bride’s family wore. He carried his gun in a shoulder holster under the jacket—I could see the outline when he moved. Chicago in the 1920s had been a haven to gangsters and whatnot, but I hadn’t thought an architect would feel the need to carry a gun.

I had thanked Jack as soon as he showed up a few hours ago. Adam told me that Jack was the one who’d made sure Adam had seen Garmr attacking me in the woods. Elyna’s dead husband had given me a grin, told me that turnabout was fair play, and brushed it off.

I thought that I was the only one who could see him until I saw that Peter, talking quietly with Elyna, kept giving Jack a side-eye glance. As if he couldn’t quite see that there was someone standing behind her, but kept getting glimpses out of the corner of his eye. I wondered, not for the first time or the twentieth time, exactly what I’d done to Jack.

The blues of Tammy’s people might look black in the predawn darkness, but the same was not true of the groom’s family. Standing on the groom’s side, Dylis wore a long ethereal dress that was the exact color of her eyes—and her son’s eyes. The brighter blue caught the reflection of the tiny lights in the tub, giving the dress an ombré effect. Andrew’s suit was a gray pinstripe.

The rest of us, Adam, Emily, and I, wore blue, too. Blue jeans.

Emily paired hers with a creamy white sweater that glowed against her skin and looked thick enough to keep her warm even in the subfreezing temperatures. Her eyes were a bit red and puffy. I’m not sure she had believed my explanation of exactly what Hugo was, even with Liam’s corroboration that such a thing was possible. She’d been stiff and uncomfortable with me when I’d pitched in to help decorate for the wedding.

But it wouldn’t matter what she thought in the end. After a few days she would forget. Because Hugo was Garmr, and Garmr was the center of the Great Spell, even if he wasn’t the heart of the wedding.

Like Emily, Adam and I wore our blue jeans, because we didn’t have anything else to wear. His shirt was a deep green button-down that dressed up his jeans almost enough for a wedding.

I, on the other hand, did not look like a wedding guest in my overly long jeans and Adam’s sweatshirt. I hadn’t been able to find anything better in the box of spare clothes because I hadn’t had time to restock it after the last moon hunt. I covered myself up as best I could with Adam’s coat, my own having been shredded with my last pair of jeans in the fight with Garmr.

“We have the bride and the groom,” Liam said. “The bride’s family and the groom’s family. We need witnesses. The first is the spirit of this lake, who is part of the holy ground we stand upon. We need two other witnesses.”

Zane said, “I left my handpicked men behind rather than risking their deaths in the storm. I need a caretaker. The caretaker is usually a healer, one who has made sacrifices for their families, their friends, and complete strangers. Empathetic and kind.”

Liam smiled. “The Great Spell provides. Emily, whose people have visited this place since time immemorial, whose chosen field is healing. Would you stand as witness?”

She looked startled—and not a little hesitant. Tammy put a hand on her shoulder and whispered something I wasn’t supposed to hear. Emily nodded carefully, took a step forward. “I will.”

And something happened. I’m not sure exactly what, but I felt magic move and concentrate on her. My vision blurred a bit, and when I could see Emily again, she was dressed in a white doeskin tunic and leggings. She carried authority in her straight back and raised chin.

“The spirits of those who bore witness in the past have accepted you,” said Liam. “Come and stand here.” He directed her to a place behind him and on his right.

Zane said, “The third witness is the avenger. Fighter for justice. There is blood on his hands and fire in his heart. He brings the deaths of his prey without guilt, for his causes are righteous.”

Zane looked at Peter and his men. Peter, in turn, a thoughtful look on his face, turned to Elyna.

“I believe,” Peter said, “he is talking about you.”

She looked more like a high school prom queen than an avenger. Elyna raised an eyebrow at Peter. He took her hand and kissed it.

She freed herself, rolled her eyes, and looked at Zane—then hesitated, her eyes finding the faint light rising in the east.

“For this day,” Liam said, “the sun will not burn you, nightwalker though you are.”

She stared at him, lips parted. Then she shook her head slightly and turned to Zane. “I accept.”

For her, the magic found armor. Not parade armor with gilt and silver links, but the battered kind that had served useful purpose in battle. It looked medieval to me, and Eastern European, but historical battle armor wasn’t a specialty of mine. She, too, took her place behind Liam, on the opposite side from Emily.

In his cabin, the frost giant patted his dog, sat down on an old leather footstool, and took up the instrument that was, for this last day, a lyre. He closed his eyes and played.

It did not matter that he was not a musician. It didn’t matter that he did not know how to play the lyre. Because what he played was magic, and he would continue to play from the edge of dawn until the fall of night on this day that marked the zenith of his power—the beginning of winter, for he was the Winter King.

Liam raised his hands, and the whole world changed.

Behind him and to his left and his right stood witnesses, but they weren’t the spirit of the lake, Emily, and Elyna. They were the embodiment of all the witnesses who had stood in their place in centuries past.

Tammy, now clothed in silver from her headpiece—a fantastical creation of tiny flowers and silver branches with silver leaves—to her metallic silver dress embroidered with tiny white stags and black pearls, stepped forward to stand before Liam. Her dress ended at her calves and exposed her strong bare feet. When she stopped, though, her face became a wilder version of itself. White lines of paint or ink drew themselves over her cheekbones and around her eyes in ancient runes. As each one completed itself, I could feel the power rise around us.

Peter stepped forward to stand behind and to the side of his daughter, his men in formation behind him. They could have stepped out of a Viking longship with their full beards and long hair braided in warrior locks. One carried a spear, another a seax, the third a bow, the fourth and last a sling—and my instincts told me that the weapons were important.

Peter’s elaborate sword felt like an artifact. I thought of Liam’s careful words when we’d asked him if he could sense artifacts in the lodge. I wondered if the sword had been here. I wondered if it was one of the swords the Dark Smith of Drontheim had made.

Dylis and Andrew stepped forward. Dylis looked like a fairy queen, her gauntness elevated to elegance and her dark blue eyes jewels set off by the silver-blue gown that flowed off her shoulder in the kind of simple lines that only magic could attain. A silver-and-diamond net encased her hair, each diamond as large as my thumb. The gems were not clear but subtly blue in color. Andrew wore fae armor, white etched in silver, and there was a silver crown on his head encrusted with blue diamonds. He held a sword, longer and finer than the one Peter held—and it, too, was an artifact.

I had intended to stay in the background with Adam, but I found myself stepping forward as well. My battered garments traded themselves for a doeskin tunic and leggings very like Emily’s, but mine were trimmed in white coyote fur. And I thought if I looked at myself in the mirror, I might not look entirely human myself.

At my side, his hand in mine, stalked Adam. He wore black armor and a cloak of black wolfskin. His eyes were yellow wolf’s eyes.

The groom was dressed in a tunic and trousers that would have been plain if they had not been made of silver. His feet, like Tammy’s, were bare. Upon his head he wore the horns of a great stag, and those, too, were silver. I couldn’t tell if it was a headpiece or not.

And there, beside the hot springs, standing on holy ground, Liam spoke the words that would bind the fate of the world for another cycle. As he spoke, music flowed around us and between us, re-creating the Great Spell of binding with bits of power it borrowed from all of us. It wove those little sparks of mortal and immortal with the vast power of the frost giant who played the harp.

It felt as though it took only a moment, but when the power dissipated, leaving us in our before-the-spell selves, the sun was setting again.