Chapter Three

Too early the next day, Donata slid into the passenger side of a battered gray pickup truck, clutching her travel mug of coffee as if it were a lifeline. She tucked her leather backpack at her feet, eyes half-closed against the rising sun. Magnus tossed her large duffel bag into the cab in the back effortlessly, despite the fact that she’d packed half of her closet into it, and took his place behind the wheel.

“What happened to your van?” Donata asked with a yawn. The last time she’d ridden with him, he’d been driving a much more expensive van with a lot fewer miles and way less rust on it.

Magnus grinned at her, annoyingly perky and awake. “Gimle is very rural and hard to find, even if you are looking for it, set back in the woods where few people will stumble over it accidentally. There are only two roads into town, and one of them can only be used if you have some kind of off-road vehicle or a suspension you really don’t care about. I kind of like my van, so I borrowed this from my dad to use while I’m staying there.”

He patted the dashboard fondly. “It’s not pretty, but it will get us there in one piece.” The engine made a grinding noise as he put it into gear, and he added, “Probably.”

Great. “How long a drive is it?” she asked as they headed toward the highway. She almost dropped her coffee into her lap as they hit a bump. “And what the hell happened to the suspension? Or didn’t it ever have one?”

Magnus laughed, his even white teeth flashing in the morning light. “Still not a morning person, eh, ’Nata? I remember how grumpy you could be first thing.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Of course, I also remember being able to cheer you up. Not that I’d try that particular technique while I was driving.”

“I wouldn’t try it at all if I were you,” Donata said, struggling not to remember naked skin and passionate kisses. She nudged her backpack with one booted toe. “I’ve got a gun in here and I’m not afraid to use it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You brought a gun on your vacation?”

“One, I’m a cop. I take my gun everywhere.” She’d never had to use it, but she wasn’t telling him that. “Two, you know perfectly well this isn’t really a vacation, and three, I’m heading into the wilds of Maine to a rural town full of frustrated Shapechangers. The gun just seemed like a good idea.”

“Um,” he said. “I’m not saying it isn’t. Just try not to shoot any of my relatives. I’m kind of attached to them.”

Donata stifled another yawn and took a big swig of coffee. “Speaking of relatives, how do they feel about you bringing me home? I know Ulfhednar aren’t big on outsiders.”

“Halfrida, who is the Lawspeaker, and the village elders agreed that we’d run out of options,” Magnus said, not quite answering the question. “And my mother will love you. She’s very welcoming.”

“Uh-huh. I take it that means the others won’t be.”

Magnus maneuvered the truck smoothly around a large 18-wheeler, proving the old beater had more power than she would have expected. “Well, my father, Halvor, is on the council of elders, so he was in on the discussions about you coming. Mind you, he argued against it. But he’ll come around eventually.”

“You have a sister, too, don’t you?” Donata had a vague memory of him saying they didn’t get along, which didn’t bode well for her reception there either, unless things had changed since he’d gone home.

“Kari,” he said flatly. “She’s going to treat you like shit, I’m afraid. Don’t let her get under your skin, and don’t back down. She’s an Ulf, like my father, or at least she was, and it’s never a good idea to show weakness in front of them.”

Oh, yeah, this is going to be a great trip. Maybe for my next vacation, I can climb to the top of a live volcano. And throw myself in.

“What do you mean she used to be an Ulf? I didn’t know that was something you could retire from once you’d become one.” She had a moment’s hope that maybe after Magnus had completed the training and successfully mastered his inner beast, which was why he’d returned in the first place, he’d walk away again. Back to the city. Back to being her friend.

He stared at the road. “It isn’t. Kari was a career soldier; not unusual for an Ulf. She’s ten years older than me, so she’d already enlisted when I was a teen. Did a few tours in the Middle East. On the last one, she lost most of her right leg to a roadside bomb. Still managed to carry three of her unit to safety before she passed out from blood loss. Her Ulfhednar healing abilities meant she didn’t die, but losing a limb meant that she no longer was counted among the Ulf of the Bear clan. An Ulf has to be able to go into berserker mode when threatened, and the body simply doesn’t respond that way anymore after being mutilated to that extent.”

“That must be hard to adjust to,” Donata said. That kind of injury was difficult enough for anyone to deal with; she couldn’t imagine what it meant to someone whose culture valued strength and fighting ability above all else.

“She’s done okay,” Magnus said, reluctant pride coloring his voice. “She and her husband have a couple of small kids now, and she teaches at the school in town. Wait until you meet my niece and nephew. They’re complete hellions.” He said that like it was a good thing.

Donata suddenly had a bad feeling. “Magnus? Where am I going to be staying during this visit? Is there a bed-and-breakfast or something?” Surreptitiously, she crossed her fingers on her right hand, down where he couldn’t see them. There was a moment of silence. “Magnus?”

He gave her a look that seemed caught between guilt and amusement. As usual, the amusement won. “No bed-and-breakfast, ’Nata. The town is way too small for that and not designed to welcome visitors. We’re staying at my family’s compound, of course. Don’t worry, I have a small wing to myself, so you ought to be able to have some privacy.”

She sighed, sinking down in her seat. “Great. So while you’re out training all day and half the night, I’ll be stuck in a house with adults who hate me, and two children you described as hellions. Remind me to get to the bottom of this mystery fast, so I can go home to my cat.”

Magnus snorted. “I’m sure you’ll win them over with your charm soon enough,” he said.

Donata snorted back. There were plenty of things she was known for, but charm definitely wasn’t one of them.

“When you call it a compound, what do you mean?” she asked, curious. Despite the less-than-encouraging circumstances, she was intrigued by the opportunity to get a glimpse of Ulfhednar society, something few people ever got. “I thought you lived in a small town.”

Magnus honked loudly and made a rude gesture in the direction of someone who had cut him off in a snazzy sports car, then took a deep breath to get himself under control before he answered her question.

“Gimle is a small town—population five hundred and forty-seven, not counting the occasional wandering moose. Everyone there knows everyone else, and half of them are related one way or the other, although there are a few Humans, mostly Maine natives who are rough and antisocial enough that they are more comfortable with us than the outside world, and ignore anything odd they can’t explain. Occasionally one of us will even marry a Human, but the races can’t interbreed and children are important to the Ulfhednar, so it doesn’t happen very often.”

Donata winced at the thought of children. Ever since her former boyfriend Anton had sent her those herb-induced dreams, she’d been thinking about babies more and more. She was at the age when Witch women usually started a family, but she was hardly in any position to do so. Hell, she wasn’t even sure she liked children, other than her beloved niece Sophia Gaia. She shook her head to clear it and figured that maybe Magnus’s “hellions” would cure her.

“So do most of your clan live in town?” she asked, as much to distract herself as to continue the conversation.

Magnus shrugged. “About half, maybe? The rest of us live right outside of town in family compounds, which is really just a fancy way of saying ‘big houses with a bunch of outbuildings.’ We’re a matrilineal society, so the house stays with the woman. When my parents got married, my father moved in with my mother and her parents. They’re gone now, my grandparents, but my sister and her husband and kids live there. I’ll have rooms there until I marry.” He gave her a sideways glance. “Of course, that isn’t likely to happen soon.”

An oncoming car had to swerve as the truck edged into the opposite lane, and the sound of its horn trailed off behind them.

“If you don’t start paying attention to the road instead of flirting with me, it’s not likely to happen at all,” she said.

Magnus just laughed.

It seemed to Donata that the journey was going to go on forever as they went deeper and deeper into rural Maine, the roads getting narrower and the towns farther and farther apart. The closer they got to his home, the less Magnus talked, as though he had left his more civilized persona behind with the city. She could almost see the shadow of his Shapechanger heritage growing darker in his eyes in the same way that the towering trees threw increasingly dense shadows over the bumpy roads as they crowded in closer to the sides of the truck.

Finally they drove through the nearly deserted streets of a tiny hamlet. A woman swept the walk in front of a general store, and an elderly man walked a large dog past a small diner. The main street lasted only about two blocks and looked much like main streets everywhere except for the noticeable absences of both a town hall and a church.

“Gimle,” Magnus said. “It means ‘New Heaven.’”

“Seriously?” Donata looked out her window at the neat but unexciting buildings. “Huh.”

“It all depends on what you compare it to, I guess,” Magnus replied. “My people mostly came here from Europe after the Church had forced us into hiding for centuries along with all the other Paranormal races. It was a place where the Ulfhednar could live together and practice their own beliefs, so I suppose it was heaven, in contrast.”

“I see what you mean,” she said. Then held on to her seat as they made a sharp left onto a dirt lane she hadn’t even seen. A few minutes later, they pulled up in front of a building that was a cross between a log cabin and a ski lodge, consisting of a large one-story main section with a number of smaller wings coming off in random directions, as if it had been added onto higgledy-piggledy over the years as the family had expanded and they’d needed more space. It was both imposing and surprisingly charming at the same time.

“Home, sweet home,” Magnus said, stopping the truck and jumping out to grab her duffel bag. He took her backpack from her and slung one arm around her shoulders as they walked toward the front door. “Brace yourself, babe. You’re about to meet the Torvalds.”

As if on cue, the front door opened and a middle-aged woman with graying blond hair worn in a braid across her head and a flour-dusted apron tied around her middle greeted them with a smile that showed off dimples that matched her son’s. She was almost as tall as him and only just beginning to turn to plumpness. Bright blue eyes twinkled at them both equally.

“You must have gotten an early start,” she said. “I didn’t expect you until later. Come in, come in.” She hugged Magnus briefly as he passed through the doorway, then turned to her guest.

“You must be Donata,” she said. “I’ve heard a little bit about you from Magnus, and I’m so looking forward to getting to know you better. I’m Astrid, his mother, in case you haven’t guessed.”

Donata followed Astrid into a large central foyer with polished wood floors that gleamed in the light streaming through the front windows. The open space was mostly empty, although there were huge candle sconces on either side of the door and spaced around on the oak walls, and a niche in one corner that held an altar to Odin. From where she stood, Donata could see straight ahead into the main living space, which was filled with comfortable couches, chairs, and occasional tables in subtle combinations of wood and blue and brown fabrics with a few touches of cream. All of the furniture was slightly oversized and looked as though it had been made by hand with care. A massive fireplace big enough to roast an ox in dominated the far end of the room, and windows on either side of it looked out on trees covered with fading leaves.

Doorways on either end of the foyer led out into other areas of the house. From the one on the left, she could detect delicious scents wafting down the hallway, so she guessed that way led to the kitchen and dining area, among other things.

“You have a lovely home,” Donata said as Magnus dropped her bags by the front door with a thud. “Thank you for having me.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Astrid said, shooing them ahead of her into the living room. “Can I get you something to drink? Dinner won’t be for another hour or so; I’d be happy to put together something for you to nibble on.”

“I’m fine. We stopped for lunch about halfway here,” Donata said.

Magnus opened his mouth to say something when a large man clomped into the room, entering from a side door Donata hadn’t noticed. He was enough like Magnus that they could have been brothers, except for the few silver strands in his hair and closely trimmed beard. She’d heard it said that if you want to know what a man will look like in thirty years, look at his father. If that was true, Magnus was going to age well. An old scar crossed one weathered cheek, and the lines around his mouth and eyes were deeper, but Magnus’s father was still a handsome male who radiated command like some men did aftershave. Even in worn jeans and a green-and-blue-checked flannel shirt that shed bits of bark from the stack of wood he was holding.

“Oh, Halvor,” Astrid said. “Good. Magnus and his friend Donata just got in.”

Halvor dumped the logs in a holder by the fireplace and stared at Donata with a blunt and impassive gaze. “Huh,” he said to Magnus. “So this is the Witch who is supposed to save us all. Somehow I thought she would be more impressive.”

She stared back at him. “The Witch is standing right here,” she said. “And somehow I thought you’d be more polite, so I guess we’re even.”

After a moment of tense silence, Halvor nodded at his son. “Well, she’s got backbone, I’ll give you that. Maybe this won’t be a complete disaster after all.”

“Halvor,” Astrid said in a disapproving voice, only to be interrupted by the sound of high-pitched yelling as two children, a girl who looked to be around four and a boy maybe a year older, ran into the room like a couple of tiny tornadoes. The girl held a soft red ball the size of a tomato over her head as she fled from her brother, blond braids streaming behind her. They both wore variations of the jeans and flannel their grandfather had on.

“Give it back,” the boy yelled. “It’s my turn.”

The girl looked back and stuck her tongue out at him. “Not if you can’t catch me, it isn’t!”

They both ran up to Magnus, weaving between his legs and shouting, “Uncle Magnus, Uncle Magnus!” He chuckled and plucked the ball out of the little girl’s hand, tossing it to Donata without looking and, in the same motion, grabbing both children around their waists and dangling them upside down. They shrieked with laughter as he held them up about six inches from the floor.

Donata caught the ball more by instinct and years of training than by any conscious thought, amused and a little more touched than was good for her peace of mind by the ease with which Magnus interacted with his niece and nephew.

“Put us down, Uncle Magnus,” they yelled. He just chuckled more.

“Yes, do put them down, Uncle Magnus,” said the woman who followed them into the room. Like the rest of the family, she was tall and blond and attractive, although at the moment she wore a scowl that spoiled her good looks. She walked with the slightest of limps, but the muscles under the blue cotton turtleneck the color of her eyes made it clear there was nothing weak about her.

“What have I told you children about running in Grandfather’s part of the house?” she said.

Magnus reluctantly lowered his niece and nephew to the floor. “Hello, Kari. This is my friend Donata. Donata, this is my sister, Kari, and these little monkeys are Jerrik and Iona.”

“Hi,” Donata said. Kari nodded, barely, but the kids ran up and stood at Donata’s feet, gazing at her in curiosity.

“Can I have my ball back?” Iona said, giving Donata the innocent-cute act for all it was worth. Adorable, but not remotely believable. It reminded Donata of when Ricky the Kobold had done something he knew she wasn’t going to approve of.

Donata widened her eyes and held out both hands, empty, in front of her. “What ball?” she said. “Did you lose a ball?”

Both of the kids looked at her with open mouths. “But—but Uncle Magnus threw it to you,” Jerrik said.

“Are you sure?” Donata asked with a straight face. “After all, you were hanging upside down. Maybe he threw it to someone else. Or into the hallway.”

“Never mind the ball,” Kari said. “You have homework to do before dinner. Scoot now, back to our rooms.” She shooed the children in the direction of the doorway they’d entered from, then looked briefly at Donata with narrowed eyes.

“Magnus shouldn’t have asked you here,” she said bluntly. “This is Ulfhednar business and nothing to do with Witches or the Alliance Council or anyone else. I suggest you go back where you came from and leave us alone.” She tossed her long blond braid over her shoulder. “And leave our men alone too. My brother doesn’t need any distractions right now.” She turned and walked away.

Without even thinking about it, Donata reached under the back of her jacket where she’d tucked the red ball while she was teasing the children, and flung it at Kari as hard as she could. It hit the other woman square between the shoulder blades and bounced off onto the floor.

Kari whipped around and glared, first at Magnus, then at her father. She never even looked at Donata. “That’s not funny,” she said, and stomped out of the room.

Magnus doubled over with laughter, tears streaming out of his eyes. His mother bit her lip, and even Halvor made a noise that might have been a smothered laugh before shaking his head and following his daughter out.

“I can’t believe you did that,” Magnus said, walking over to scoop up the ball and hand it to Donata. “Here, you might want this again. I’m just glad your gun is still in your backpack.”

Astrid slapped him lightly on the side of the head. “Don’t encourage her,” she said. Then she turned to Donata and the smile slid off her face. “I am sorry that you did not get a warmer welcome from the rest of my family. Sometimes they forget their manners, but they mean well. They will come around, I promise.”

Donata had her doubts, but she didn’t want to antagonize the one other person in the house who seemed happy to have her there. “I’m sure,” she said in a neutral tone that made it clear she was anything but. “I really am here to help.”

“I believe you are, dear, or I wouldn’t have encouraged Magnus to bring you here.” At Donata’s surprised look, she smiled and said, “Didn’t he tell you that both his father and I sit on the town’s Assembly of elders? No? Well, he does often leave out more than he says. Never mind.”

Astrid nudged her son. “Why don’t you pretend we know how to treat a guest properly and take your friend to her room? I’m sure she’d like to clean up and rest a bit before dinner.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Magnus said. His mother smiled at Donata ruefully and wandered off in the direction of the kitchen. Magnus picked up the bags and guided Donata down the hallway to the right.

“Well, that was fun,” he said cheerfully. “I can’t wait for dinner, when we’re all gathered around the same table, with no escape.”

Donata just hoped there would be wine. Lots and lots of wine.