Лори Девоти - Unbound

It was Kara’s turn to be strong.

“It wasn’t your fault. Everyone makes their own choices. Just because you believed it was the right thing to do — going back to that bar. It doesn’t mean Linda didn’t want to, as well. It doesn’t mean whatever happened to her wouldn’t have happened anyway.” Kara stepped forward and heaved out a breath. “They are hunting us. If it hadn’t been Linda, it would have been another witch, eventually all of us. You were right. We have to stop this — stop them.”

Kara held out her hand, palm up. “We’re going to stop this.”

Risk’s ears flipped forward; the sound of hissing came from the other side of the doorway. Someone was coming.

“Lusse.” He turned to the witch who sat with her chin resting on her knees, her eyes faraway and swimming with dark plans. “They’re coming.”

She smiled. “Good.”

Now was when Risk needed her to play along with his plan, but she couldn’t know he was manipulating her.

“What is our plan?” He projected the question into her mind.

She shrugged. “My power has almost returned. I’ll blast the guards and take what I want.”

“The witches?” Risk asked.

“Yes, and whatever.” She flicked her gloves in the air.

“But…” He let the thought trail off.

“What?” she snapped.

“Nothing, just, it would be a shame if we left before you had a chance to learn all of Jormun’s secrets.”

Lusse twisted her mouth.

“Maybe there is a way to spend time in Jormun’s world without him suspecting your goal. You can blast your way free and steal the twins whenever you like.”

She tapped a finger against her lip. “Yes. He wants witches, doesn’t he?”

Risk nodded. “The most powerful.”

A smile split Lusse’s face. “And who is more powerful than I?”

“No one,” Risk murmured, praying it wasn’t true.

“Exactly. There must be some way to gain his trust…” She slapped her glove against her palm. “What was it that garm insisted on?”

“A toll,” Risk murmured telepathically. If Lusse would cooperate, perhaps he could arrange a simple exchange.

Her nose wrinkled. “I won’t pretend to be a toll.”

Tension wove through Risk’s body.

“But we can pique his interest other ways. A challenge.” She clapped her hands together. “I’ve heard Jormun can’t resist a challenge. And since he was exiled by Odin he can’t have had any worthy opponents. We challenge his witches to a battle. He won’t be able to resist.” She laughed. “That will get us in to see Jormun, but I’ll need you to stall for time a bit, keep him busy some way — until I’ve had a chance to let my powers completely renew.”

The doorway began to pulse.

Lusse stepped forward until her thigh was pressed against Risk’s side. Reaching down with one hand, she snagged his chain. “And remember, alpha, I still own you. The power of this chain is no less here than it is in my realm or the humans’. If you attempt to escape me, I’ll throw your son in the pit and lock you in a cage for eternity.”

The doorway vibrated again.

Risk lowered his head in a silent nod.

Two strange hairless beings greeted Risk and Lusse as the door’s power shield thinned. Their huge eyes glowed yellow, and thin silvery tongues flicked out of their mouths, brushing against Risk’s fur and Lusse’s cheek.

She swatted at the intrusion.

“Lusse,” Risk spoke in her head. “Remember your plan.”

She frowned, but stood still, letting the creatures analyze them. They leaned together, their heads almost touching, hissing and waving their short arms toward Risk. After their consultation, one stepped forward, his tongue again flitting out of his mouth to dance over Risk’s face.

Risk froze, his hackles raising. When the tongue returned again, he raised his lip in a warning snarl.

The creature hopped backward, and the two engaged in another round of excited hissing.

“What are they?” Still in his hound form, Risk was able to keep his question audible only to Lusse.

“No idea,” she replied, not bothering to lower her voice. Her arms crossed over her chest and an impatient huff escaped her lips.

Risk inhaled, trying to identify the beings. They smelled of heat and moisture, like the tube, but stronger, and something else. Something that made his hellhound nature want to grab them by the neck and shake, something unnatural.

“They aren’t natural,” he murmured in Lusse’s head.

“Really?” She cocked a brow, her head tilting as she studied them in return. She held out a hand and waved it slowly toward them. “You’re right.” Excitement cracked her voice. “They are made.”

“By the Great One.” One of the creatures stepped forward. His yellow gaze dropping to Risk. “What type of creature are you?”

Surprised they could speak, Risk glanced at Lusse. She waved her hand in a circular motion. Get on with it.

“Forandre. Hellhound.” He projected his reply so both the creatures and Lusse could hear.

More hissing, then one of them asked, “You change, like the Great One? Is your other form serpent?”

Risk’s lip curled at the thought. “Human.”

The creatures looked at each other and nodded. “We didn’t think there was another as strong as the Great One,” the second creature replied.

“Change,” the first demanded.

Risk narrowed his eyes. His ability to shift between hound and human was not a circus trick to be performed for others’ entertainment.

Beside him Lusse shifted, her exhaled breath telling Risk she was impatient to get on with their quest.

“Yes, yes, shift,” the second creature chimed in, his long body bouncing slightly with his excitement.

Gritting his teeth, Risk considered their request. He was strongest in his hound form, but his strength would do him no good trapped in this waiting area. And there were benefits to being human — like being addressed as an equal.

With an annoyed growl, he shook his body out and willed his form to change. The magic that allowed his transformation swelled from within him, shifting his form from hound to human in mere seconds. Risk stretched, pushing himself to his full height, the heat and humidity of the tube rolling over his naked skin.

The creatures stepped back, their huge eyes glowing even more brightly. “Ah, he did it.”

“Yes, yes.” The second creature clapped his hands together. “Big.”

“Not as big as Jormun,” the first chastised.

“No, no. Jormun is the greatest,” the second agreed.

Lusse whipped her cape around her arm with an impatient snap. Risk touched her arm lightly, reminding her of her plan. If antagonized, Jormun’s front guard might choose to leave them in the portal’s entrance tube.

Her lips thin, she waited.

“And this one?” The creature gestured toward Lusse. “She is your toll?”

Lusse opened her mouth, but before she or Risk could reply, the creatures continued, “Too late. Jormun has no more need of such. So sorry, forandre.” With an awkward bow, the pair turned to leave.

“Halt,” Lusse ordered.

The creatures glanced back, their tongues flickering out of their mouths.

“How can he not need me?” Lusse swept her arm down the length of her body. Her hand fisting.

The creatures looked back at Risk, confusion on their faces. “Your toll wants to serve Jormun?”

Lusse stepped forward. “I am not a toll. I’m a challenger. I challenge Jormun’s new witches.”

Risk lowered his brows. Lusse’s arrogance was intolerable to him; he could only imagine how the creatures before them viewed it. “Doesn’t Jormun want the most powerful of witches?” he asked.

Lusse smiled, her hand relaxing.