Page 13 of Baldr's Secret Mate

“Why are you helping Tyr?” I asked, realizing the jig was up. “What could he possibly offer you when he can't even control himself?”

“Ah,” she nodded. “You're from Fenris. I should have guessed.” She just shook her head, scoffing at me. “Tyr can offer me what I want most. Life.”

“So you supply him with the tools to perpetuate his madness and he what? Brings you people to bleed dry?”

The witch clicked her tongue. “I'm disappointed in you young witch. At your age you should know the life force ofordinary people isn't worth much.” She leaned across the table, her claws digging into the wood. “Werewolves on the other hand… they can give me power, heal quickly, and then give it again. I could have a never ending supply to keep myself young and beautiful forever.”

“Tyr gave you a taste and now you can't get enough…”

Her entire demeanor shifted as I spoke. No longer was she the kind old woman trying to help me. Now she was an old crone with malice in her eyes and blood under her fingernails. Even the interior of the hut had taken on a more sinister air. For the first time I noticed several large spiders and serpents slithering over the walls. The entire place was an illusion.

“Everyone wants youth and power,” she scoffed, disappointed that I even questioned her motives. “And soon, you'll have neither.”

Her movements were much faster than I expected. In a flash she'd grabbed my arm with one clawed hand and was dragging me out of my seat and toward the fireplace. Her strength was inhuman and no matter how hard I fought to get free, she held me fast.

“Too bad for your friend,” she grinned. “He'll die in the house without your help I'm sure. And he'll never know how much your sacrificed to save him.” Her smile was cruel as she glanced back at me. “And you'll never get to tell him you love him.” She cackled, yanking me closer to the fire. “Pathetic.”

“And you’re just going to let Tyr destroy Fenris with his war?” I shot back, trying to buy myself more time and information.

“What do I care about a few werewolves? As soon as I have my youth and power, they’ll be of no more use to me. As far as I’m concerned, they’re no better than the rest of the mountain trash around here.”

We got close to the fire, and I expected her to keep pulling me through the hut toward the bed to collect her prize. Instead she grabbed a ladle hanging on the mantle and dipped it into a boiling pot sitting directly on the flames. Violet liquid filled the utensil as she brought it toward me, a sickly green smoke curling up from it.

“Want to try a sip of my witches stew?” she laughed. “I promise, it won’t hurt a bit. In fact, it’ll make your death peaceful.”

“You… You’re not going to steal the life from me?”

“Not this time precious,” she growled. “Right now I fancy myself some werewolf stew. Not to mention, I bet that pretty white coat of yours would make a handsome rug.”

“You were watching me…”

“I knew you were coming the moment you stepped foot on my mountain,” she smiled, chuckling under her breath. She pushed the ladle toward my mouth. “Drink up precious.”

But when I merely pressed my lips together and turned my head away, all remaining vestiges of her merriment wore away. Her tiny amount of patience had run out.

“Fine,” she spat, throwing the ladle back into the pot with a splash. “Suffer. That’s all your kind inflicts on others, anyway, so why shouldn’t you have your share?”

Her iron-like grip tightened around my wrist and I realized, a little too late, that I couldn’t escape. When she finally did pull a knife from the back of her belt, I felt my heart leap into my throat. The blade was dark and dirty, like it had been lying at the bottom of a pond for years. I wasn’t sure what it was made of, but as she rose it high, I found myself praying that it wasn’t silver. I made one last vain attempt to pull away from her before the blade came slicing through the air.

I cried out in pain as it pierced the flesh of my chest. The blade sunk in a half inch before I felt an incredible magicalpower well up around me. Suddenly the knife was thrown backward, disintegrating as it spun through the air. Gold magic flared around me and runes lit up across my body. The witch had but a moment to look at me with fear and recognition in her eyes. At last she knew that I was no ordinary wolf, but the son of Freyja, the strongest witch to have ever walked those mountains. It was only then that she knew the gravity of her mistake. A blade to the heart was a direct attempt on my life in one fell swoop. All I could do was close my eyes, knowing the repercussions of my mother’s magic would be terrible.

Bright golden light filled my vision despite my eyes being closed. There was a horrible scream as an explosion of magic erupted all around me. I heard the tearing of fabric, the breaking of boards, and the creaking of nails ripped from their mooring. The witch’s scream was cut off as the magic suddenly stopped. I took a deep breath, preparing myself for what I was about to see. Nobody had ever tried to take my life in one swift move before, so I wasn’t sure what to expect.

It was the smell of smoke that finally forced me to open my eyes. The moment I did, my jaw fell open. The witch was gone. And so was her house. The stone fireplace, the potion, the walls, the snakes, the bed, and even most of the floor had been blown away by my mother’s spell. Smoke curled up from where the fire used to burn, nothing left now but a few coals glowing in the dirt. I glanced down, looking for any sign of the witch. And all I found was a pair of bare footprints on the charred wood. Everything else was gone.

“Fuck…” I breathed, looking at the devastation around me.

I had no idea such a thing was even possible. Sure, the magic had always protected me, but it had never killed anyone. Tyr was hurt and others who’d tried to bully me when I was young got a few singed fingers. But this… this was somethingelse entirely. My power was growing and along with it, my mother’s spell.

“The spellbook,” I whispered. “I have to find it.”

My mother had never told me anything about a spellbook when I was a child. Her teaching methods for magic were somewhat… ethereal. Most of the time I was taught to feel my magic and use my intentions to draw up the right runes. I started out small and slowly worked my way up. By the time she was gone I could manipulate plants into flowering and kill them just as easily with my will. Locks didn’t stop me from entering rooms and now and then, I could hear a loud thought or two as someone passed by. But my biggest gift had always been visions.

If such a book existed, it might be the thing that I needed to get Mist out of his prison. I had no doubt the witch’s magic would hold despite her death. A barrier like that was connected to the earth where it stood, it operated without constant input.

However, as I stepped through the debris out into the green clearing, I felt the cold sting of snow on my nose. I glanced up, noticing the barrier around the clearing was now gone. Already the cold air was seeping in and strangling the delicate wildflowers and robbing them of their color and beauty. I felt a pang of sadness in my chest as I realized I was the cause of all this death. But there was nothing I could do about it now. The witch was gone and I didn’t have the time or the power to keep her sanctuary intact. Besides, it was time the mountain was free of her influence.

Stepping into the middle of the clearing, I bent down and picked a single red wildflower before the cold could take it. Holding it to the sky, I called up the magic within me, runes appearing on the ground in a golden circle. It was time to go back to the resort to find my mother’s spellbook and there wasn’t a moment to lose. I didn’t know how connected Tyr and the witchhad been. He might already know of her demise and that meant Mist was in trouble.

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