Frozen Page 15

My mind racing, remembering how a wolf had dashed in front of the truck before I’d rammed into the Hound—and how a thin arm had disappeared, but a dead wolf had lain in its place—I was almost at Erik’s driveway before I realized that the officer from the sheriff’s department had already arrived. The patrol vehicle was parked behind my old Jeep and the deputy crouched in the road, taking pictures of the damage.

  I pulled into the end of Erik’s driveway, blocking the entrance so that I wouldn’t block the main road. This wasn’t the order I’d hoped to do this. I’d intended to call the sheriff’s office as soon as I got here, drive up to Erik’s house and apologize, then use the excuse of the deputy’s imminent arrival to leave as fast as I could without seeming to run away.

  Maybe this was better, though. After seeing that frozen bloodied heap in the road, I might be having a longer conversation with Erik that I’d intended. I had to warn him that the Hound might not be dead. Because the only reason the Hound would fake his death was so that it’d be easier to ambush Erik later.

  God. Maybe he already had?

  I cast my gaze up the winding drive, then jumped when a tap sounded at my window. The deputy. So worried about Erik, I’d almost forgotten about him.

  Erik had to be fine. I’d get this done as fast as possible and go warn him. Grabbing my coat and hat, I stepped out into the bitter cold.

  “Thanks for coming,” I told the deputy. “I’m Olivia Martin—I called this in. That’s my rig.”

  “Ben Tooley.” With a tilt of his head, he gestured for me to walk with him. Though blond, he had a bit of an Andy Griffith vibe, complete with a long, lanky walk and easy smile. “You say you called this in?”

  “I did. A couple of hours ago, and made a report to the deputy on duty.”

  “Ah. The last shift. I was rolling by and saw it—lucky for both of us, I guess, since now I won’t be sent back out here and you won’t have to wait.” The deputy stopped at the side of my Jeep, studying the claw marks ripping through the door panel. His low whistle joined the shake of his head. “Big, whatever it was. Did you see who did it?”

  “No.” Already feeling the cold, I shoved my bare hands into my coat pockets, and stuck with the story. “I was taking papers up to the Gulbrandrs’ lodge to be signed. When Mr. Gulbrandr walked me back down, we found it like this.”

  He glanced at the shattered glass. “And you didn’t hear anything?”

  “No. But I was in his house for a few minutes. So it must have happened then.”

  “Was anything stolen?”

  “I don’t know. Some of the clothes from my suitcase were tossed around, I guess. But I didn’t get close enough to look through and see if anything else was touched. I figured that if something big enough to do that was hanging out in the woods, then I’d be better off back at the lodge.”

  “You probably thought right.” Tooley glanced toward Erik’s driveway. “Is Mr. Gulbrandr home now?”

  “Yes.” Or I assumed he was. I hadn’t really questioned that he’d return here—his front door was shattered, and even if Odin’s ravens had collected the snake’s body, there was a hell of a mess to clean up in the tower room.

  The deputy nodded. “Well, I’ve got enough pictures already. I’d like to head up and take his statement, then return to record the list of items still inside and those missing. No offense, but I can’t leave you here with the damaged property until we’ve determined if anything has been stolen.” This time, his friendly smile was rueful. “I know that anyone driving by could have grabbed something out of these broken windows, but regulations are regulations.”

  “It’s okay.” A relief, actually. We’d be heading up to Erik’s place and I could make sure he was all right—maybe even tell him about the Hound if we had a second of privacy. “So you’ll follow me up?”

  He looked back at his patrol rig. “If you don’t mind me hitching a short ride, I can leave my truck there, and there’d be less chance of someone messing with yours.”

  There was already zero chance, given the lack of traffic on this road. Of course, with the Hound still out there somewhere, Tooley might come back to find it in the same state as my old Jeep.

  “You aren’t worried that will happen to it while you’re gone?” I cast a significant glance at the claw marks.

  A laughing grin split his face, as if that was the funniest thing he’d heard all day. “I think it’ll be all right.”

  “It’s fine with me, then.” The faster we went, the faster I’d stop worrying about Erik. I climbed into my Jeep—Tooley was already at the passenger door, swinging it open. Crap. I’d expected that he’d have to call this in first and that it would be a minute or so before we were on our way. I snatched my heavy shoulder bag off the passenger seat to make room for him. “Sorry.”

  “No worries.” He breathed deep as he settled in. “New?”

  “Yeah. I’m assuming the insurance will write off the other one as totaled.”

  Awkwardly, I tried to fit my bag on the console between us. I could put it in the back, but I didn’t want to twist around with my giant bag while he was in that seat—I’d probably whack him. I settled for slinging the strap over my shoulder and holding the bag on my lap like a baby. It was only a quarter mile.

  I started up the drive. The heater was welcome on my face, though Tooley didn’t look as if the biting air and wind chill had affected him at all. He’d been out taking pictures for a while, yet there wasn’t a hint of red on his nose. I couldn’t say the same, but I was glad of it. When Erik saw me, I could blame the redness and puffiness on the cold. He didn’t need to know that I’d spent part of the afternoon bawling.

  And something really, really wasn’t right.

  My gut was tight, my instincts screaming. My fingers clenched on the wheel but I tried not to let my sudden unease bleed into my voice. “I just realized—I should have mentioned this. On my way up, I came across a snowplow that had stopped because it ran into a little pack of frozen wolves. The driver thought a bear must have gotten to them.”

  Frowning, Tooley slowly nodded. “Maybe a bear.”

  “But he said he’d called it in and was waiting for a deputy. So I don’t know if you want to take care of that first before we run an inventory through my rig.”

  He nodded again. “I’ll radio in and see if they’ve sent anyone else when we get back. From what it sounds like, Gulbrandr saw as little as you did, so the statement shouldn’t take more than a minute or two.”

  “Great.” I forced a smile and kept my eyes fixed on the road. Was my gun still in my bag?

  No. Oh, shit. I’d left it in the nightstand by my bed.

  And what if I was wrong? What if I was just freaking out because I knew the Hound was out there somewhere, and my instincts were off? What was I going to do, shoot a deputy?

  After quitting my job and losing the man I loved, going to jail for the rest of my life would just be the sweet cherry on top.

  My relief was a solid, thumping beat in my chest as Erik’s fortress came into view. I’d been right. He was back. His truck sat near the gatehouse, where a hanging sheet of clear plastic told me he’d already begun working on sealing up the house and fixing the front door.

  The portcullis still worked. If I could get into the house and lower it, I’d be okay.

  “How did you figure it out?”

  My blood froze. I glanced at Tooley—not Tooley anymore, but a man with silver hair and yellow eyes.

  His smile was sharp as he leaned closer, as if sharing a confidence. “I can hear your heart pounding, you know. I can smell the stink of your fear. So tell me what gave me away.”

  Now that I was sure, a few things were shouting at me. “You said ‘who.’” My voice was a terrified rasp. “When asking if I saw what tore up my rig, you said ‘who’ instead of ‘what,’ even though those were obviously claw marks. And you didn’t check in before coming up to the house. Any real deputy would have checked in before entering a private residence, just in cas
e something happened.”

  “Ah. Shoddy work. You surprised me, though. I’d only intended to take the registration from your glove box so that I’d have your home address. When I heard you coming, I had to improvise. I thought you’d noticed the patrol vehicle wasn’t real.” His grimace revealed fangs and pointed teeth. “Was there anything else?”

  “Your nose wasn’t red, even though you’d been out in the cold. God. You don’t have to do this. Just go home.”

  “All right.”

  Stopping the Jeep behind Erik’s truck, I stared at the Hound in surprise. “You will?”

  “After he’s dead. I have three brothers to avenge. Nothing will steer me from this course—and it will be so much more satisfying than killing him when he isn’t aware of anything but your cunt. Now he’ll know what real pain is.” A terrible grin widened his mouth. “So do you think you can make it to the gatehouse?”

  I sure as hell was going to try. My fingers flew to the door handle and I threw myself out of my seat, knees cushioned by the snow.

  He was on me before I made it to my feet. Long fingers caught my neck in a chokehold. I tried to scream Erik’s name and only a wheeze emerged, my windpipe cut off, my lungs already aching as my panicking body tried to suck in more air.

  A snout covered in human skin nuzzled my cheek. “There, now. Here he comes. I don’t even think he knows we’re here yet.”

  Terror and pain filled my eyes with burning tears. Desperately I blinked them away as Erik stepped through the plastic sheeting, his expression drawn, the deep shadows on his face making his features appear gaunt. He moved with the stiff, broken gait of someone in terrible agony, as if even breathing hurt.

  Then he glanced up and it all changed. He stood utterly still, his jaw like steel, his eyes diamond. My warrior. His glittering gaze caught mine across the distance.

  The Hound spoke against my ear, loud enough that Erik had to hear. “He’s probably wondering if this is real or a trick. So how should we convince him?” Clawed fingers dug into my hip and he ground his pelvis against my back. “After last night, he’ll probably recognize every sound you make as you’re held down and fucked.”

  Though he didn’t move, Erik’s face whitened. Tears burned over my cheeks and I struggled against the Hound, sick with sudden rage. It had to be an empty threat—raping me would make him as vulnerable as the curse was supposed to have made Erik—but if he was going to hurt me to torture Erik, then he should just get on with it. This was just drawing it out, because I knew Erik didn’t dare take a step toward me, not while the Hound held me like this. And nothing I did mattered, not kicking or scratching, because he healed in an instant, and my gun was so, so far out of reach.

  But my bag was still hanging across my shoulder, the big pouch lying against my stomach. In it was everything I needed to keep from starving or freezing or being eaten by bears.

  Or ripped apart by a Hound.

  Still kicking, weakly I flailed back at him with my right hand. My left hand crept into my bag.

  Erik didn’t look down, didn’t give me away. Instead he focused on the Hound. “Let her go. She has nothing to do with this.”

  “She has everything to do with this, son of Odin’s son.” A deep growl rumbled against my back. His breath was hot on my cheek. “When you see her dead, you’ll know the pain that drives me now. But not for long. You have no spear and you’ll soon follow her.”

  Oh, God. Hurry, hurry. Where the hell was it?

  Hope burst through me as my desperately searching fingers brushed a smooth steel canister. I felt for the grip—oh, thank God, it wasn’t hairspray—and flipped open the safety top with my thumb.

  Suddenly I stopped flailing, my gaze locked on Erik’s, my breath coming in thin, wheezing sobs. I let my knees sag, as if I couldn’t hold myself up anymore. The Hound adjusted his grip on my throat—loosening very slightly.

  Holding my breath, closing my eyes, I brought the pepper spray up beside my face and shot it blindly behind me.

  A gurgling screech pierced my ear. Pain ripped the side of my throat as the Hound reeled back, claws dragging over my skin, but I was free, stumbling into the snow. I didn’t breathe, didn’t open my eyes, just scrambled forward, my knees whacking into my bag as I crawled as fast as I could. The Hound was shrieking, a ululating howl of agony. Burn, you fucker. It didn’t matter how fast he healed. The pepper spray wouldn’t instantly dissipate—it probably felt like he was being sprayed again and again.

  With a fleshy thunk, the howl cut short. I glanced back then wished I hadn’t. Erik hadn’t used a wooden spear. A giant icicle had been shoved through the Hound’s nightmarish jaws as if it had tried to swallow a thick pole. My head swam, and I shut my eyes again as Erik reached for those jaws, but the wet rip of flesh and bone made my stomach heave into my throat. I was still crawling, I realized then, and tried to get to my feet, but my head was spinning and I couldn’t breathe.

  Strong arms swept me up. A deep voice said my name. But it was too late.

  Holy shit. I was going to faint.

  Chapter Twelve

  Pain stung the side of my neck. I jerked upward and almost cracked my forehead against Erik’s jaw. He was leaning over me. Vaulted ceilings arched above him. I was lying on a cushion.

  The sofa. In his great room.

  “You’re safe, Olivia.” His deep voice was low, soothing. “I’m just cleaning the scratch on your neck.”

  From the Hound’s claws. Memory swamped me. Oh, God.

  I fell back against the cushion again. “Is he dead?”

  “Yes.”

  “For sure this time?”

  “Yes.” His smile was strained, but his fingers were gentle as he swept a peroxide-soaked cottonball over my skin. I hissed at the sting. “You were brilliant.”

  The pepper spray. “I was desperate.”

  “You saved us.”

  “I only distracted him. You finished it.” My throat was a solid ache. “I was coming to tell you that he’d tricked us last night. That you’d just been fighting his wolves. A plow scraped them out of the snowbank. But he was already at my Jeep and it wasn’t until we were driving up here that I realized…”

  My breath shuddered and I couldn’t continue. I didn’t need to.

  Erik nodded, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw. His eyes were warm as they searched my face. “You’re all right now?”

  I’m not hurt, I almost said. But I was. My chest still hollow. My heart shredded.

  And I still owed him. Stiffly I nodded, then sat up. Erik withdrew his hand and stood, fists shoving into his pockets. The pain in my chest deepened. “I didn’t know about the wolves until I was almost here. I just wanted to say…I’m sorry that I didn’t shoot you.”

  His pale blue gaze shot to mine. White suddenly edged his mouth.

  “Not that I want to,” I hastened to explain. “I just… You made a choice. I made a promise and didn’t keep it, never had any intention of keeping it, because I’d made another choice. And this whole thing is fucked up, so I end up being sorry for not shooting you—sorry I didn’t respect your choice. But I’m not sorry I didn’t really shoot you.”

  His eyes closed. “You came here to apologize to me?”

  “Yes. And no. That’s why it’s fucked up.” I hauled in a shaking breath. “I can’t imagine how you felt, coming through that door. Expecting me to stop you and not.”

  “Like a fucking monster,” he said hoarsely.

  Tears stinging my eyes, I could only nod. “I’m sorry for that.”

  “Don’t be. Jesus. You had no good choice, Olivia. I know that.”

  “I know you didn’t, either. I guess it worked out as best as it possibly could.” Except my heart had been shattered. “But when I came into the kitchen this afternoon and you looked at me like that, like you just couldn’t stand being near me, I thought you might hate me for failing to do what I’d promised.”

  “No.” He regarded me as if stunned. “God, Olivia. I co
uldn’t.”

  “Then why? Obviously you meant to stay a little while longer. But then you were just ice.”

  “Jesus. That wasn’t—” Raking his hands through his hair, Erik abruptly turned away, but not before I saw the torment in his face. His voice was flat when he continued, “I heard you coming down the hall. I didn’t know how you… I decided to wait and see how you reacted when you realized I was there. But you didn’t even come into the kitchen. You were just cringing by the door, and I—”

  “Felt like a monster again?” When his eyes closed, I knew I’d struck the mark. God. Had he misread so much? “I wasn’t cringing. I just wasn’t expecting you to go cold on me. After last night, it was a slap in the face for you to freeze me out.”

  “I didn’t mean— I wasn’t freezing you out. I wasn’t trying to hurt you.” His expression tortured, he faced me again. “I was just trying to hold it together. Trying to take care of what needed to be taken care of, knowing I needed to go.”

  So I’d misread him, too. “But you don’t have to go. It was good last night, wasn’t it? And this morning.”

  “Good?” He shook his head, but it wasn’t a denial. Instead his gaze seemed haunted as he scanned my face. “Yes. It was…good.”

  That was the understatement of the year. “And I wasn’t hurt. So maybe dinner next week?”

  He stared at me for a long second. “A date?”

  “Yeah.” I shrugged, hoping that the casual gesture would conceal the way my hands were clenched so tightly that my fingers ached, and my heart was pounding out of my chest. “I have some free time. Because I just, you know, quit my job.”

  Eyes suddenly bleak, he shook his head. “I can’t.”

  “Okay. Then what time is good for you?”

  “I can’t, Olivia.”

  This time it was harsh, abrupt, and I battled to keep my response light, wishing that I would just shut up, just stop, but I couldn’t. “Why? The danger’s gone. I wasn’t hurt and it all turned out okay. There’s no reason for you to move to Europe.”

  “Not this month. But in the future? The curse isn’t just for this year, but every year. Is the next guy you date going to be understanding when I show up at your door?”