Chapter Six Baldr

T he moment I left Mist’s dome, I ducked into the trees to grab my backpack. I’d taken a detour back into the hotel after I found Loki’s letter to collect a few supplies. The place hadn’t been stripped clean, so there were still snacks in my cupboards. I stuffed a few into my bag along with an extra pair of clothes before I headed down the mountain. And now that I was done letting Mist know where I was going, it was time to head out.

I stripped off my clothing, tucking it into the bag along with my shoes. Getting to the witch’s cottage would be much faster on four feet instead of two. I knew I was running out of time. With Tyr already attacking the pack outright, I could only hope for a day or two more of peace before he moved against the Hati pack again. Hell, I wasn’t even sure there was that much time to spare. But I had to find the witch because I knew that Mist needed to be set free. Loki was right, he was the key to Tyr’s takeover. Without him the Skoll pack would be outnumbered five to one.

Still, I found myself hesitating in the snow, my bare feet stinging with cold. Part of me wanted to put this off for as long as possible. The visions I’d had were clear when it came to Mist. He was going to find his power eventually, of that much I was certain. And some… people were going to die because of it. All of their faces were fuzzy in my vision, meaning their fates could be changed. However, no matter how many times the sight came to me, one face always remained perfectly clear regardless of what the circumstances were.

I shuddered, but pushed it away quickly. The future was going to happen one way or another and while most of it remained open to change, there were certain points in time that were fixed no matter what. This just happened to be one of those points. Still, I endeavored to make it as positive as I could despite the end I saw coming. Mist didn’t deserve to be tortured any longer. And if he was going to find his power, I’d rather it be from freedom than from anguish.

Steeling myself, I stuffed everything in my bag and pulled the zipper shut. There wasn’t time to tell Thor or Flynn what I was doing. They’d want to come along and that would only slow me down. There just wasn’t time for that.

Taking a deep breath, I called upon the wolf deep inside of me, ushering it to the surface. Runes rose up beside it in my mind as the shift began. My shifting was slower than the others in my family, probably due to my half-blood heritage. However, the magic side of me made the transition painless despite my cracking bones and shifting flesh. In a matter of moments I found myself on four paws in the snow, shaking the itchy feeling from my fur. I glanced back at myself, the familiar creamy white fur covering my body lending me protection from the cold almost instantly. My paws, however, were black. Thor always teased me, telling me it looked like I’d permanently waded through mud. But I sort of liked it. The coloration was unique and set me apart from the others.

Reaching back, I snapped up my backpack in my jaws and started west, taking the long way around the dome so as not to be discovered by the Skoll pack. It took me a good ten minutes before I reached the southern side. From there I followed my wolven senses, my nose and instincts carrying my south. As soon as I was out of Skoll territory, I picked up the pace, intent on being at the witch’s house by morning.

I just hoped I could keep up the pace.

◆◆◆

The hut was more run-down than I expected. It had taken me until nearly noon the next day to actually find it. Loki’s directions weren’t exactly specific, but they got me there eventually with the help of my nose. The clearing was there just like he said with the pond out front and a mossy roof. And even though there was snow everywhere else, it seemed to have left the witch’s clearing untouched. Everything in her domain was still green and vibrant, like it was the height of summer.

I spent the better part of twenty minutes walking around her clearing still in my wolf form, checking the area for strange hints of magic. However, no matter how much I kept my nose to the ground, her clearing seemed, for lack of a better word, inviting. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that might be the trap. It wasn’t that some evil magic would spring the moment anyone got close, but that she wanted them to come in. Like a spider drawing her prey into a web, she needed someone to feed on. And if Loki’s description about her stealing life force was true, that’s exactly what she was trying to do by luring people in.

No wonder her sanctuary was always green and lively.

Going back to the far side of the clearing, I let my wolf form melt away. I landed in the snow on my hands and knees and quickly pulled my backpack open to retrieve my clothing. As soon as I was dressed, I picked the bag up, slung it over my shoulder, and stepped into the green circle of grass.

The temperature shifted instantly. It was like I’d just stepped into a massive heated greenhouse. In a matter of seconds I could feel the sweat gathering under my coat as the heat seeped in. All around me the wildflowers were in full bloom, tricked into splendor well outside of their season by her magic. Honeybees buzzed here and there, collecting pollen for their hives. The entire scene was magical and yet somehow… disturbing.

But I didn’t have any more time to waste. I needed answers about Mist and his imprisonment. So, without hesitation, I strode across the vibrant lawn toward the hut. To my surprise, there was an orange glow from within, like a roaring fire was burning in the hearth. And before I made it to the front door, I heard the latch click and the hinges creak as it swung open.

“Come in,” a gentle raspy voice said from inside. “All travelers are welcome with Madam Hecate.”

I had to stop myself from scoffing. Madam Hecate was a very pretentious name for a witch living in the woods. Was she decently powerful? Yes. But was she the mother goddess of all witches? I think not. Before I’d even stepped foot in her house, she’d given herself away for what she really was. A scam artist. Only those with little power would claim to have all of it. But she didn’t know she was dealing with another witch. At least not yet.

Up the steps I went, playing it shy as I stepped inside her hut. I glanced up at her, noticing her nearly white eyes. As I got closer, I realized they were actually gray, but unsettlingly so.

“Hello, my dear,” she nodded, pulling a kettle off the roaring fire. She stepped over to the table where two cups and a plate of cookies was already waiting. Clearly she’d been expecting company. “What brings you to my neck of the woods?” She poured one cup and then the other, the steam rising from the fine china teacups. “Not lost are you?”

“Actually… I came looking for you,” I said, still trying to play the innocent role. “I need to help a friend, but I don’t know how.”

“Come. Sit. Tell Madam Hecate all about it and she’ll see what she can do.” She gestured to a chair on the opposite side of a small round table. “Have a cup of tea to warm your bones.”

I took a seat opposite her, taking my chance to glance around the cabin. As far as I could tell, everything looked fairly normal. It was small and a single room save for the bathroom tucked into one corner. Despite the old world decor and the mysterious dark glass bottles on the shelves, it seemed like she wasn’t willing to skip on modern plumbing. Her bed was tucked into the opposite corner and draped in many hand knit blankets. Herbs and flowers hung upside down from the ceiling. It was an extremely witchy aesthetic and part of me wondered if it was all for show. Then again, living out here in the mountains all by herself meant she probably had to fend for herself most of the time.

“Here,” she smiled, pushing the cup of amber tea in front of my place. “Now tell me about your friend that needs my help.”

I lifted the cup, savoring the warmth after traveling all night through cold and snow. Giving it a cautious sniff, I detected no malevolent ingredients. And, when I took a sip, I found it to be kind of delightful. The old crone could brew a mean cup of tea.

“Thank you,” I said, pulling the cup from my lips. “My friend is in trouble… well, I guess more like he’s under some kind of spell.”

“Is that so?” She seemed bemused by that claim. “How do you know?”

“We met the witch that cast it on him.”

“Well, that leaves little doubt to the contrary then.”

“And now he’s trapped.” I paused for a moment, twisting the truth to keep her from suspecting my lies. “He can’t leave his house. It’s like there’s an invisible force holding him in and he’s been stuck in there for days.”

“And you want to get him out?”

“Of course!”

She placed her cup down on the saucer before holding her hand out. “Can I see your palm?”

“Sure.”

I put my own cup out and reached out my right hand. But the moment her fingers touched mine, she pulled away, as if shocked.

“Oh,” she murmured, a smile crossing her lips. “You have some power of your own I see.”

I nodded, sticking to my half-truths. “Yes. But not enough. I have visions now and then, but nothing that can help my friend.” I lifted my gaze to meet her cold gray eyes. “I need someone with real power.”

She smiled wide, soaking up the attention. Clearly she enjoyed the praise, and I was happy to give it to her if that meant getting what I needed. I had to butter her up if I was going to help Mist and she couldn’t know it was him until it was too late.

With her strangely long, thin fingers, she pulled my hand toward her, turning my palm upward. She traced a single finger over the creases in my hand, humming under her breath as she stared.

“A full heart I see,” she smiled. “You must care for your friend very much.”

Despite myself, I blushed, my cheeks burning. “He… He’s just a friend.”

“Of course he is,” she replied, her tone nothing but disbelief. “You already know the truth of your feelings and in time you’ll come to express them.” She traced another line on my hand. “But your head is full of doubt. And your fate is tangled and twisted. A life-changing event is marching your way and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”

Then she paused, lifting my hand closer to her face before letting out a laugh.

“What?” I asked. “What is it?”

“You don’t have a sun line,” she said, shaking her head. Her eyes darkened as she focused on me. “But you do have a moon line, wolf.”

I couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped my lips.

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone your secret.” She turned my hand over, looking at the back of it. “You’re not a full wolf, anyway. That’s easy enough to tell. Someone had to give you those visions, right?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, peppering in the truth again. “On my mother’s side.”

“I see.” She turned my hand back over once more. “Your lifeline is very short, dear child,” the old witch said, tracing a long claw down my palm as a cruel smile curled over her lips. “Very short indeed.”

“I know,” I replied, realizing all of this was getting me nowhere. I had no need for soothsayers, I could see the future myself. “My visions have told me as much.”

But then she stopped, grabbing my hand and pulling it close once more to scrutinize further. “Interesting.”

“What?” I asked, my brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you see?”

“Your lifeline isn’t short,” she corrected, looking up at me. “It’s broken.”

I shook my head. “No. It’s short. You’re right. I… I have seen my own end.”

“Yes,” she nodded. “But have you seen your beginning?”

I stared at her, my head tilted to the side. What the hell was she talking about?

She let my hand go, tilting her head in curiosity. “Let’s consult the bones, shall we?”

Standing up from the table, she went to one of the nearby shelves and pulled down a leather drawstring bag. She moved smoothly for someone her age despite her hunched and withered appearance. It made me think I might not be the only one putting on a facade. I expected as much, but still, it made me keep a closer eye on her.

“Hold out your hands.”

I did as she asked, cupping them together. She tipped over the bag and poured an assortment of bones into my hands. They were all sort of short and thick with a single rune carved into each one. They smelled musty and old, like they’d gotten wet a few times in their leather pouch. However, there was also the distinct smell of human hanging over them. It wasn’t until she took her seat again that I realized it was because they were human bones. Finger bones from the middle digit of each finger to be precise. It took every ounce of restraint not to wrinkle my nose up and curse in disgust.

“Cast the bones,” she said, clearing the table in front of me to reveal a circle of ebony inlaid into the wooden surface. “And think of your friend that needs help. They will point the way.”

Closing my eyes, I concentrated on Mist and shook the bones before dropping them to the table. The clatter was hollow and strange to ears, but it didn't stop my curiosity from pulling my eyes open once more. The old witch leaned toward, getting close to the bones and peering at each one individually. Then her head snapped up to me.

“Your mother's spell book,” she said. “Have you found it?”

“I… I didn't know she had one.”

“The bones tell me that the power to save your friend is in her book.” She picked up another, examining it closely. “They also tell me you haven't been entirely truthful with me.” Her cold gray eyes fixed on mine. “What did you say your name was?”

“I didn't.”

“It's only polite to give your name.”

“My name is my own,” I replied, nonplussed by her pathetic attempt at control. “And yours is not Madam Hecate.”

“Who are you, wolf?” she barked, sweeping the bones from the table with a huff. “And why did you really come here?!”

She was angry now, and I knew my welcome was officially worn out. I'd always assumed she'd figure it out eventually, but I'd hoped to get a little more information out of her first.

“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 of ordinary 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 magical power 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 something else 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 witch had been. He might already know of her demise and that meant Mist was in trouble.

I brought the flower down to my lips, cupping it in my hands.

“Take me home,” I whispered before tossing it to the ground.

The moment the flower hit the grass, it burst into flame and the magic ignited all around me. I felt the familiar tug at my back again and the world around me disappeared.