Page 77 of Untethering Dark

“It is cooler,” Johanna acquiesced. “I’ve got bear spray at the office. Just a couple sprays will clear out the whole site.”

Reaching into her pocket, Astrid withdrew a phone. “I’ll keep this on me at all times, too, for speedy communication.”

“It only took a crisis,” Johanna teased, mood lightening, just as Suri asked, “Is that a flip phone?” The way they said it, it must’ve been a relic of human technology. Odd, since the last time he’d seen one was only a decade or two ago.

“Also—” Astrid rooted around her pocket again and pulled out an amulet hung on silver chain. “This is for you, Suri, especially if you’re going near that site. It won’t help you against spells that cause physical harm, but it’ll protect your mind from compulsion magic.”

Sobering, the excitable human thanked her and slipped the charm over their head. “How much time do we have to prepare?”

“About six days.”

“It’ll have to be enough.”

A flicker of movement from the trees above caught the corner of Gudariks’s eye, and when he looked up, a crow launched off a branch and took flight, inky feathers disappearing into the night sky.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Grogginess settled in after the latest dose of hag potion, Astrid’s leaden limbs as good as glued to Mutter Perchta’s rocking chair. Overall, it had gotten easier, but today’s hit hard. All the training, organizing, and spending late nights with Gudariks were finally catching up.

“Come, Tochter,” Perchta tutted, gently taking the tin cup from her hands. “You need fresh air. Why don’t you join me on my next patrol? A nice ride through the mountains.”

Giddy nostalgia livened Astrid’s mood. Sleigh rides with the alpine goddess during the winter season were a staple of her childhood. Not so much now that they lived apart, and she missed them.

“Help me?” She reached out, and Perchta gave a hearty yank, launching her to her feet.

“Bundle up, my dear. You’re not resistant to the cold enough yet.”

The mountains were quiet—no echoes of chattering, laughing tourists on the trails—just the smooth glide of Perchta’s sleigh cutting across the snowscape, punctuated by the steady hoofbeats of her eight carnivorous mountain goats.

Cold’s icy needles stung Astrid’s cheeks in a thousand pinpricks. She rewrapped her scarf around her face—leaving just a sliver open for her eyes—and pulled the blanket she gifted Perchta across their laps and feet. Though cold still leached through the extra layer, it staved off the worst of the bite.

Oskar was curled up on a heating pad between them, a corner of Mutter’s cloak draped over his furry body, his face pressed into her side.

Astrid hummed contentedly to herself, far more awake and alert now. It had been too long since the three of them were together like this.

They swept along the perimeter Perchta made, periodically stopping to check the integrity of the spell work. Under Mutter’s instruction, Astrid practiced testing and bolstering the wards.

After their fourth one, as they were speeding around a bend of trees, Perchta quickly drew in the reins, hissing. They lurched to a stop.

Ahead, in the center of their path, a wolf snarled and snapped its jaws, its poor front paw caught in a trap, broken and bloody. And behind stood a familiar, wiry man holding a blood-encrusted dagger overhead. Sandy hair hung in limp, greasy strands, his beard longer, scragglier. Same high quality, understated hiking gear, but he smelled like he hadn’t washed in several days.

The poacher who’d followed her back to her cottage, broke into her home, and left cigarettes everywhere like filthy, taunting breadcrumbs.

Head bent, he didn’t acknowledge their approach, mutterings of an old language on his lips. Either he was too focused on the gruesome task at hand to take notice, or he didn’t care that they were there.

But he would.

Clearing her throat, Perchta waggled her clawed, gnarled fingers in greeting.

The poacher’s attention snapped to them, blue eyes cold and hard. Though dark circles underlined his eyes, his gaze was no less keen as it zeroed in on Astrid’s, narrow and squinty. “Fancy seeing you again, Blondie.” Holding out a hand in surrender, he slowly lowered the dagger into the sheath at his hip. “As much as I’d love to catch up, I can’t stick around.”

Lightning fast, his raised hand shot down, and with the flick of one wrist, then the other, knives zinged through the air, coming their way. Astrid threw up her hands, conjuring an icy shield—and no sooner than she did, a knife hit it with a crunch. A blink later, and she stared at the steel knifepoint from where it had penetrated her spell, stopped just centimeters from her right eye. A lethal throw.

Glancing left, Perchta had her hand raised, the second knife turning to ice as it was absorbed into her palm. How in the... “Youhaveto teach me how to do that.”

Perchta arched a stern brow at Astrid’s sorry excuse for a shield. “One thing at a time, Tochter.”

Astrid dropped the shield and the knife stuck inside.

---