Лори Девоти - Unbound

Risk glowered back.

“You know, you’ll catch more bees with honey. Or in Narr’s case, by taking his honey.” His gaze shifted to the zippered opening where the man had slid his scroll earlier.

The man’s eyes bulged, his lips ringed with blue.

Wishing he had his hands wrapped around the garm’s neck, Risk flung the man away. Then while the thief lay panting on the floor, Risk reached in his shirt and yanked out the paper.

“Back,” Narr muttered, holding up a weak hand.

Risk patted the scroll against his palm. “Where is she and how do I get there?”

“Gotta pay the toll.” The man coughed, his hand pressed to his throat, his eyes focused on the rolled piece of paper.

Risk snarled. He was fed up with games.

“A witch. You gotta have a witch. Garm has to let you through if you do. Part of the portal rules.”

Risk glanced at the garm. The other forandre lifted his head in a short nod of acknowledgment.

A frown cut across Risk’s forehead. “Who’s buying them? And for what?”

Narr glanced from the paper in Risk’s hand to the garm. The bartender pushed away from the counter and strolled to the other end of the bar. His back toward them, he began stacking glasses.

“Jormun,” Narr whispered. “Don’t know what for, but he’s been going through a cauldron of them. Every bounty hunter in all nine worlds been bringing in witches. Getting to be hard pickings anymore.”

Risk sat back on his heels. Jormun. What was the outcast son of Loki trying to accomplish with these witches?

“Garm,” he yelled. “Does he tell the truth?”

The bartender turned, his jaw set. “Greed and dim-wittedness may haunt Narr, but I’ve never seen him lie.”

Dropping the scroll on Narr’s chest, Risk shimmered out of the bar.

Perched on a boulder outside his cabin, Risk stared into the forest. The air was cool, but not biting. The scent of pine reminded him of the garm. He adjusted his bare feet on the smooth stone.

He had to return to Lusse. It was the only way to save Kara and her sister. He needed a witch to get into Jormun’s realm.

Before Kara, he would have simply tracked down an unknown witch and used her to buy his way into Jormun’s, but he couldn’t do that any longer. Couldn’t surrender an innocent, even to save himself or Kara.

A raven landed on a nearby branch. The sun glinted off its blue-black feathers.

For better or worse, things had changed. Risk had changed. Now he had no choice but to go forward and hope everything worked out somehow.

Life bound to Lusse had been unbearable before meeting Kara. Now, after knowing her, touching her, a lifetime separated from her would drive him mad more surely than even the bloodlust that ruled so many hounds.

The raven pointed its beak up to the sky, its raucous call splitting the air.

“Risk?” Lusse turned on one foot, a box of chocolates balanced in one hand, her eyebrows raised in surprise.

Risk tamped down a small surge of satisfaction at surprising the witch for once.

“I know where the twin is,” he announced.

“Ah, good.” Lusse lowered herself into her chair. “I did tell you to stop by before you went to retrieve her, didn’t I?” She flipped the lid off the candies and speared one with a fingernail. “So, you are concerned for the whelp.” A frown flitted across her face.

“Of course not,” Risk replied, adding a tinge of surprise to his own face.

Lusse held up the chocolate and studied it for a second before switching her gaze back to Risk. “Good, because I’ve been considering selling him. In fact, the potential buyers could be arriving any time.”

Anger twisted Risk’s gut. If Lusse was flaunting such news, it had to bode ill for Venge.

Choosing his words carefully, he said, “I didn’t know you ever gave up a hound. He’s well, isn’t he? Capable?”

She shrugged one shoulder and grasped the candy between her teeth. After swallowing it, she replied, “Still in his cage and possessed of a foul temper. I tire of his tantrums. But the sale was just a passing fancy, perhaps I won’t.”

In other words, she would wait to see which choice tormented the other males most.

Risk shoved his concerns to the back of his mind. Venge was safe for the moment; besides, if Lusse was with Risk in Jormun’s realm she wouldn’t be able to wreak havoc here.

“I know where the witch is, but I need your help to retrieve her.”

“Really?” Consternation and pride warred for Lusse’s expression. Dropping the candy box onto her lap, she huffed out, “Explain.”

Risk told her what he had learned from the thief at the Guardian’s Keep.

“Jormun?” Lusse prodded the inside of her cheek with her tongue. “What is he up to?”

“I wondered the same, and I’m sure there are those who would pay well for the knowledge,” Risk prompted.

“Gods even,” Lusse murmured to herself. “How many witches did the thief say Jormun had taken?” she asked.

“No count, but he acted like the number was dangerously high for the survival of witches.”

“Well, we can’t have that, now can we? What would I hunt?” Lusse laughed. Turning pensive, she ran a finger over the tops of a line of chocolates. “And the portal…how is it guarded?”

Risk frowned. What was she thinking? “I only saw the garm.”

She tilted her neck, her mouth twisting to the side. “Hmm.”

“There is no getting past him without paying his toll. I tried. And he has the power to shut down the portal. Then I…we’d never get your witch.”

“And I’d play the role of toll.” She flipped her gaze toward him.

“A pretense only,” Risk assured her.

“Of course.” She pursed her lips, her eyes focused on a spot behind him. Glancing back at him, she asked, “And you think he’d believe that? That you have control of me?”

Risk filled his lungs with air. “I don’t know that it will matter. From what I understand, garm are ruled by their dictates. Once the guidelines have been set he won’t vary from them.”

“It’s possible. Garm are an unimaginative sort.” Her finger pushed into the top of a chocolate, releasing an eruption of sugary syrup. “I have been feeling a little penned in. It’s been what, four hundred years since I left here?”

She picked up an untouched candy and popped it into her mouth. “Yes, a little trip to the Midgard Sea sounds divine. I can hardly wait to see what Jormun has been up to.”

With a peal of laughter, she stood up, the box of chocolates tumbling to the floor. “Yes. A trip. I think I’ll even pick up a few things while I’m out.”

With another laugh, she swept from the room.

Footsteps shuffled toward Kara, the round yellow lights growing larger. She swallowed and clasped her fingers more tightly together.

Something danced across her face again. This time followed by an excited hiss.

“Jormun will be pleased,” a new voice said.

Dry hands grabbed her arms and pulled her forward. Her captors spun so they and Kara faced forward, the yellow beams now clearly lighting the passageway in front of them.

Kara kept her gaze straight ahead, not ready to see who or what held her arms.

They stood in a hallway, constructed from what appeared to be a gigantic tube with just enough flat area forming the floor for her and the two creatures flanking her to walk side by side. The entire tunnel was transparent revealing what Narr had said was true — they were submerged deep inside some ocean.

The escort on her right swung his beam slightly outward revealing a large school of hideously fanged fish swimming by.

A shiver rippled through Kara’s body. What was Jormun that he chose to live here?