Page 6 of Bats Out of Hell (Vikings Rock #1)

T he sky above Kenna had turned to the color of wet peat. The air had an ethereal glow, as though being lit by amber; it gave the snowy ground a strange, creamy hue. As she turned to Hamish, a huge dot of rain landed on the tip of her nose. “We are in for a rainstorm. It will melt some of this snow, but it will soak us through.”

“You are right, sister.” He pulled up the tasseled hood of his black cloak. “And it is coming soon.”

“We won’t make it back to the village before it pours,” Bryce said. “We should find shelter nearby.”

“Aye, I agree.” Kenna settled the bag of hazelnuts she’d been foraging securely in her linen bag and glanced at the ocean. It was wild, as though excited at the thought of the storm dumping more water into its mass. Waves lurched upward, their white tips colliding and curling. It was no longer possible to see the horizon, the sheets of rain in the distance having obscured it.

“To the shore,” Hamish said. “We’ll go into a cave. It can’t last long.”

“Good idea.” Kenna set off at a sprint, her brother and Bryce close behind. “Come on! You’re so slow!”

They weren’t slow at all. The two men were hot on her tail as the path turned sodden. She wound around a copse of firs and then down a slope, almost slipping on the slushy surface. A deer and fawn ran in front of her, wide-eyed and their coats wet and shiny. They were gone as quickly as they’d appeared.

A huge bellow of thunder drummed overhead, seeming to vibrate right through to her bones as she raced along, legs pounding. It was accompanied by a blaze of lightning so bright, it blinded her for several seconds.

But she didn’t stop running. She’d seen a fork hit a tree a few years ago. Watched the ancient trunk being ripped in two, sliced as though it were butter. She didn’t fancy that happening to her.

“Go left,” Bryce called from behind her. “Down onto the sand.”

She was already heading that way, intent on reaching the caves at the end of the forest track. They were her safety.

Her feet sunk into wet sand and she dashed at the rain dripping down her face. She could taste it, pure and cool. Her cloak was sopping, but she hoped her clothes beneath would be dry so she didn’t catch a chill as they waited for the storm to pass.

Hamish overtook her then was swallowed by darkness as he ran into the first cave they reached.

Kenna followed him, jumping a small rivulet that was running down the hill. She reached the front of the cave entrance and then parted ivy tendrils to get inside.

“Thank God for these caves,” Bryce said, coming to a skidding halt as he too entered the cave.

“It’s not the first time they’ve saved us in a storm,” Kenna said. “Remember that time we got caught out with the first fall of snow?”

Hamish chuckled and shrugged out of his wet cloak, laying it on a rock. “Aye, and didn’t we promise to always have a stash of firewood on hand in these caves?”

“Is there wood in this one?” Bryce asked hopefully as she moved to the back of the cave where a low, smooth rock lay flat.

“I bloody hope so,” Kenna said, peering into the darkness.

“Aye, here.” Hamish held up a bundle of kindling. “There’re a few logs too.”

“Get it started,” Kenna said, also taking off her wet cloak. “We can stay warm and dry out.”

Hamish dropped to his knees and quickly arranged the kindling.

Bryce added dried weed and then flicked sparks from a flint at it.

Within minutes, the first flames were licking upward, their delicate heat giving the promise of more to come and sending shadows into the cave.

“This is good.” Kenna held her hands to the warmth. “We can wait it out here.”

“Hopefully, it will pass quickly. The wind is so strong, it will push the clouds away.”

“I hope so.” She pulled a handful of hazelnuts from her bag and set about eating them.

“I need to pee,” Hamish said, slipping out of the front of the cave to the overhang.

Bryce sat on a piece of driftwood near the fire and rubbed his hands together.

Kenna sat opposite, on a cold, round rock.

With a gush of energy, the rain intensified, the noise suddenly deafening. The rain had turned to hail; big, white balls of ice were now battering the land. She watched it gathering in drifts around the rocks lining the beach. Several bounced into the cave, landing near her boots.

“Look!” Hamish was suddenly at her side pointing out to sea. “Do you see that?”

There was a note of alarm in his voice and quickly, Kenna swung her attention to the sea. The waves were still wild, the sky still blackened by rushing rain clouds.

A sheet of lightning made the watery view glow white.

“Oh, fuck!” She stood, the nuts falling from her hand. “It’s a longboat.”

“Norsemen!” Bryce was on his feet now, and even through the dim light, she could see he’d paled.

“They’re not faring well.” Hamish tapped the dagger on his belt as though checking it was there. “As nobody would in this bay and on this hellish sea.”

“They’ve been spotted a few times, farther out, but sailed right on past us,” Bryce said. “Not even pausing.”

“I’m not sure they could pass us by today, even if that was their intention.” Kenna watched the curved bow of the boat reach for the sky as the aft dipped into the waves. The sail snapped this way and that, seeming to keep changing its mind as to the direction of the wind.

“Is there anyone on it?” Bryce asked.

“Aye.” Hamish pointed again. “I can see. There. Someone standing at the helm.”

Kenna clasped her hand over her mouth. She could see the ogre too, and he was pointing her way.

“They will be drowned and if not drowned, smashed to pieces on the rocks,” Hamish said. “God will protect us from them. He’ll use the sea to rid these parasites from our lands.”

“What if God shows them mercy?” Kenna asked. “As we ask him to show us mercy and forgiveness.”

“What they have done, if the stories are true, is not something even our benevolent Lord could forgive.”

“Aye, they are brutes, evil brutes. They take what is not theirs, they murder and maim.” Bryce spat on the floor. “I hope they all drown like the rats they are.”

“I think you might get your wish, Bryce. Can you see that?” Hamish peered forward through the waterfall of hail. “It looks like they have struck rock.”

“Impossible not to in this bay.” Kenna knew it well. The callous rocks lurked beneath the surface, only visible at the lowest of tides. They were a good defense.

Usually.

“They are breaking apart. The boat doesn’t stand a chance,” Bryce said excitedly.

Sure enough, she could see it separating, as though a giant had snapped it in half. The mast lurched left and right and then fell, the sail dipping into the water. And while it did that, the crew of beastly brutes hurtled themselves into the mercy of the sea.

They watched in silence. The hail eased and turned once more to rain, and after a minute, a slice of bright-blue sky appeared in the east.

But the waves didn’t appease. They were feral, wild animals gnashing and snarling. No one would survive their violent wrath. If a boat couldn’t survive, what hope did bones, flesh, and blood have?

Kenna sat again, though she didn’t stop staring at the sea, wondering about the souls drowning. What would it feel like? Would it be a panic to breathe or would it be peaceful once fate had been accepted? And would God take these bad souls to heaven or would they be sent straight to burn in hell for all eternity?

Bryce stooped and added a log to the fire. Several sparks burst upward.

“They must be dead,” Hamish said, also sitting. “Battered onto the rocks, skulls smashed, I should think.”

“Let’s pray for that,” Bryce said.

Kenna said nothing. She couldn’t quite bring herself to pray for smashed skulls, even those of her enemies. It really didn’t seem very Christian.

“The rain is stopping,” Bryce said a few minutes later.

Kenna looked at the sky; the bright patch was growing. It was true, the storm was blowing itself away and what had felt like night was turning back to a winter’s day.

She dug into her pocket and pulled out a fresh handful of nuts, popped a few into her mouth, and chewed.

“We should get back to the village,” Hamish said, kicking sand onto the fire. “Tell Father what we have seen.”

“He will rejoice in the deaths of Norsemen.” Bryce chuckled and stood. He shook out his cloak. “And I thank God for saving us from their brutality.”

Kenna stood. She swung her cloak over her shoulders. “I will be glad to get back within the village walls. Any day we see those monsters is not a good day.”

She stepped from the cave, her feet crunching on a drift of hailstones. The boat was in bits now; several of its long planks of wood were being tossed on the waves. There was no sign of the devilish crew.

“Come on, let’s go.” Bryce strode past her, making for the track that led up the sandy bank.

Hamish followed, his strides purposeful.

Kenna stood for a moment, watching the waves.

And then she saw it. A body.

Dark and big, it was being pushed toward the land with each curl of the waves.

“Look!” She stepped forward, pointing. “Can you see that?”

No reply.

She swung around, but Bryce and Hamish had already been swallowed by the forest.

Curiosity gnawed at her—an inquisitiveness so intense, she couldn’t ignore it. She stepped onto the wet sand with her heart racing and her breaths puffing out in front of her face.

She pulled up her hood and rushed toward the sea. With each step, she could see the body getting closer. It had hit land now and was being pushed and pulled with each ebb and flow of the waves.

A finger of sunlight poked through the clouds, hitting the water he lay in.

And it was a he , a man, she was sure. No woman would be that big.

With splashing footsteps, she drew closer. He was on his stomach. His sodden tunic clinging to his muscular torso, his sea-soaked fur cape scrunched to one side. His dark hair was long and his boots worn but fine quality.

She didn’t really know what came over her—perhaps it was instinct, or an innate nosiness, or maybe it was her Christian upbringing—but she stooped, grabbed the material at his shoulders, and heaved him up the shoreline.

Grunting, she dragged him free from the waves. He was lifeless and as heavy as a rock. She stumbled then fell to her ass, only to quickly jump up and drag him a little further.

When the waves were just tickling his feet, she dropped to her knees at his side. Her brother and Bryce would berate themselves for running off so quickly, because now it was she, Kenna, who was going to be the first in the village to get an up-close look at a Viking.

Summoning strength, she shoved at him, once, twice, trying to push him over to his back. It took a few hard heaves—he wasn’t light and with the added weight of his wet clothes, it took all of her strength. But then he landed on his back, his arms falling to his sides and his head lolling.

She gasped. He was indeed a monster. His neck and throat were a mass of ink, and his muscles bulged. Sand clung to his strong jawline and his big, straight nose. His eyebrows were also dusted with wet sand, as was his forehead. Around his neck on a piece of leather was a boar fang. She knew that was what it was—she’d recognize one of those anywhere.

Her attention slid down his body, his tunic was ripped, showing most of his chest, and a belt around his hips held a dagger with a shiny bone handle. His pants were dark and a piece of glossy seaweed clung to the material at his groin.

She hovered her shaking hand over his chest. He was dead, she was sure of it. He’d drowned in the storm. But even so, she wanted to check, so she gently rested her palm on his chest. His flesh was solid, chilled but somehow warmish too.

And then she felt it. Thud, thud, thud. The unmistakable beating of his heart.

He wasn’t dead. He was alive.

She gasped and withdrew her hand. Looked back up at his face.

His eyes were wide open. Piercing blue, they stared at her, unblinking.

With a squeal, she fell backward, onto her behind, then quickly scrambled to her feet, kicking up sand.

Without a backward glance, she took off at a run, toward the forest, toward Bryce and Hamish.

As far away from the hideous beach monster as she could get.