to have a momentary distraction from the memories, he ran down the stairs. The number on the display was unfamiliar. “Yes?”
“You are looking for Arnbjörn.”
He recognized the cold female voice at once and suppressed a groan. Ingrid. Quite simply, he didn"t want to deal with anyone less as the moon approached full. “I am. Have you seen him?” He rubbed his forehead with the pads of his fingers.
Whatever she wanted in trade for the information would be difficult and likely painful.
“Come to my lair at dusk.” The phone clicked when she disconnected.
Brand sighed. Dealing with her melodramatic insanity was exhausting and he was not looking forward to an evening in her company. A low note, like the strum of a cello string, vibrated at the back of his skull. Every second the moon crept closer to full, and he was beginning to feel the tug of it.
He started to dial Alice"s number, since she was still on his mind, and then glanced at the clock. He was reluctant to wake her so early. He tossed his phone onto the couch and climbed back up to his loft to try to get a few more hours of sleep before he began his search for Arn again.
* * *
28
As Brand lifted his hand to knock on the door, he heard Ingrid call in Norse, “ Enter, Brandúlfr Geirson .” The air in the small cabin was pungent and thick. Many strong scents hit him all at once when he inhaled. Human blood, wolf urine, and deer musk were the strongest, the combination almost revolting enough to make him wretch.
After he subdued his gag reflex, he said, “Have you been kidnapping human girls again? You know Erik doesn"t approve.”
The female had an array of noxious substances smeared over her naked skin and tangled in her golden hair. Beneath the filth was a harsh beauty, though nearly impossible to discern.
She held a teacup in one hand, sipping delicately and watching him over the rim. Her eyes glowed iridescent silver in the dimness of the room.
“Eiríkr"s approval does not concern me.” She paused, and a small grin curved her lips. “Betimes, your approval does.
Does it bother you if I kill human females?” Brand struggled to keep his expression neutral, and his voice unworried. “Yes.”
She snorted, an amused, dismissive sound. “You never used to be so stuffy, Black Sword.” She spoke his nickname in Norse, her tongue trilling over the syllables like a caress.
“Don"t call me that.”
“I"ll call you whatever I like. Your father was the Black Spear when he was king. You shall be the Black Sword.”
“I will never be king.”
She sat on a rough-hewn stool, crossing her legs at the knee. “You never did explain what your objection was to taking your proper place.”
He ignored her inquiry. She knew better than anyone why he couldn"t be king. “You said you know where Arn is.” A calculating smirk played over her face. “I did.”
“He"s dangerous.”
“Are you actually concerned for me? How gallant.
29
Surely, you realize there is no need.” Her laugh was light, yet edged with cruelty. “Even you could not best me, unless I wanted you to.”
Her eyes glowed like molten metal, and he felt his beast straining to meet the challenge she offered. She watched him with an amused expression.
After a pause, he said, “Tell me where Arn is.” She made a clicking sound with her tongue. “I don"t offer such information freely.”
He suppressed a sigh. Her requests were always difficult. “What would you have of me, Ingrid?” She stood and put the teacup on the stool she had vacated, then turned to regard a pile of incongruous objects on a table beyond her. “Nothing that would be onerous for you.” Her eyes wandered over him in a slow glance. “An offspring of your line.”
At first, he was sure he had misheard her. When he realized that he hadn"t, he still couldn"t formulate an answer.
He stared at her for several seconds and then turned to go.
Before his hand closed on the door handle, she spoke again.
“Brandúlfr, I gave you no leave to go.” He rounded on her, his fists clenching at his sides to avoid crossing the room to throttle her. “I"m well aware you"re insane, but I had no idea you"d broken quite so much with reality. There are no offspring of my line by my choice, and I"m not about to change that with you.”
Brand had spent years bound to her sadistic whims after his sire delivered him into her care. Memories