Page 22

22

CLEANSE

I stare down at Strom’s hand, confused and shocked that the horrible Alfhild Fey might have saved something that was once precious to Strom. He seems far more shocked than me, as he quietly stares down at the stunning silver and moonstone jewelry set glittering in his hand.

They are a set fit for royalty, as we all gaze at the ridiculously ornate piece now. And to Blood Dragons, moonstones signify something more. They’re jewels to be given to the one you truly love, the dragon you wish to life-mate.

Worn in proud display, after the life-mating has been done.

“She never wore them.” Strom stares at them. “Now it seems she never got rid of them, either. She never auctioned them off like she said she did. She lied to me…”

“She only told you she sold them,” Bjorn sets a firm, comforting hand to Strom’s shoulder now, “to make you twist even more in her infernal sways. Bound to her tighter, for all your unrequited love of her.”

“But these are the only items inside her safe. Could this Alfhild woman have truly loved you, do you think?” Baldur asks now as we all stare at the jewelry in Strom’s palm.

We all go quiet then, as we digest the realization that the horrible Alfhild Fey could have had a heart after all—and that she might have loved Strom, despite everything she did to manipulate him and keep him under her sway.

It leaves him in a complex storm of emotions now to realize the woman who captured him, used him, tormented him, and kept him bound to her side via magic might have loved him.

I thread my arms around his waist as Bjorn grips his shoulder; Strom looks lost as he glances up, flashing the smallest smile of gratefulness at Bjorn, then wrapping one arm around me and squeezing me to him, tight.

I refrain from mentioning how Alfhild used not just love and infatuation, but sex to make Strom twist in her odious talon-tips decades ago. As Strom places the sparkling jewelry and the velvet bag on a nearby table, however, his eyes remain glued to it. No one seems to want to bring up the horror of Strom’s subjugation to her, as he heaves a breath and nods towards the door.

“We need to move—and leave her legacy here to rot.”

“Strom’s right,” Bjorn says. “We won’t find any remaining evidence of our Bone Mage drakaina—though Litha was here, she wiped out everything that could connect her to Alfhild, or give us any clue of who she is. We need to find these passages into the Jarl’s palace and get going, to save the Thorsens.” He nods, then grips Strom’s shoulder one last time.

My Second Drake stews now, in a dark place even as he nods. We wait a moment as he moves his hands over the walls again, looking for Alfhild’s hidden passage to the Jarl’s palace.

As he searches behind the massive headboard of the bed, he startles. His power flares over the wall behind the headboard, and I see a door hidden by magic shimmer to life where nothing had been before. It’s not Alfhild’s magic that obfuscated it, as an ancient glimmer of violet-black Bone Magic shows itself now in the hidden door .

Cursed the fuck up with nasty death-runes.

“I remember Alfhild getting me to unlock a cursed door, the few times we raided the Jarl’s palace for something she wanted,” Strom says now as he stares at it. “I never got to see what I was working on; she blindfolded me with her power before she led me to it. But I could touch it… and feel it with my magic to open it for her.”

As Strom lifts his hands before the door, Bjorn shoves the enormous bed aside. We all step in front of the doorway as Strom closes his eyes, working only with his inner senses and his power now.

As he moves his hands in intricate patterns over the door, touching sigils in a complicated dance, even Baldur’s attention is rapt upon what Strom’s doing. Because this is like what Strom did at Unhaemmerten as he draws on all our power to boost his and figure this serious curse-work out.

He gets a mega-boost to his power now from Baldur’s magic in our mix. It’s like pure light shines through Strom’s Bone Magic now as he works. It glimmers through the old violet curses in waves, as Baldur’s power somehow resonates with Strom’s own inner light.

Because unlike Mikkel, Strom’s lived in his brightness all his life. He’s only hidden his power out of fear that he would be caught and killed for it; the deep light that lives inside Strom’s magic comes out now, brilliant, as he works.

It’s like watching the most beautiful dark stars being born, as even Bjorn gives a low whistle, seeing and feeling all that beautiful magic. Baldur’s got his eyes closed, a beatific smile on his face as Strom works, swaying slightly as if listening to music in the Void that none of us can hear.

It’s incredible, as Strom causes each coiled phrase of violet sigils to flare white, then erase, though something about it makes me sad. Because Mikkel could be this bright, just like Strom; it’s in him, even though he’s been a bastard all his life.

As I feel Mikkel scream anew from the latest torture being done to him, Strom finishes. The last nasty violet sigil on the ancient door flares out, and it opens.

Admitting us to a stone passage, dark as a sepulcher, beyond.

“We’re in.” Strom opens his eyes and turns to us. “There are more cursed doors between here and the palace, but I can work them. The problem is, I don’t know which way we went, as Alfhild took us through. She only unblinded me once we reached the Jarl’s palace and raided his treasure houses for whatever she wanted.”

“One problem at a time.” I smile as I take Strom’s hand, then lean in and kiss him, grateful for him and everything he is. We make ready to go, Baldur leading and lighting up his magic inside the tunnel so we can see, then Bjorn, setting his jaw, but following.

But before we can leave, Strom turns back.

Staring at the Cisternerne’s dark waters and Alfhild’s domain, shrouded in watery shadows now that Baldur’s light has left it, Strom is silent. Then, a vicious sensation roars up inside him, as I feel an explosion of his Bone Magic surge out.

Filling the space, Strom’s power is wild, unhinged in its brutal majesty as his seething currents of forest green, dark maroon, and black-violet Bloodwind whirl. Before I know it, he’s pulling on Bjorn’s power, mine, even Baldur’s, and Mikkel’s far away—calling from us a terrible combustion of magic we’ve only been able to produce a handful of times.

It’s only happened thrice before. The first time was when we were at death’s door on a sinking ship, caught by Alfhild’s runes and unable to escape our inevitable drowning. Only me bonding Mikkel could produce this kind of combustion then, when we crashed together in a crazy storm of emotions that devoured us entirely.

The next time was that same day when Alfhild trapped us on the lighthouse beach, and I thought she was going to tear Strom from our bond and kill us.

And just recently, I produced it all by myself, after Mikkel’s and my disastrous fuck session in the gaming hall, when my magic resonating with his made me go utterly dark.

Just as it did those times, our combined power explodes now. As it blazes into a true firestorm of magic, razing the underground cistern, I catch my breath, astonished that Strom’s towering emotions have been able to blast this strange phenomenon from us once more.

I don’t know how to control it, or what it takes to ignite; but somehow, Strom triggered it, as at last, that tremendous firestorm gutters out.

Nothing is left of Alfhild’s sanctuary as the fires of our combined magics recede, only winds of swirling white ash that blow around the scorched walls and steaming water of the cistern.

The table that held Alfhild’s moonstone jewelry is gone, as is the bed. The necklace, bracelet, and earrings Strom left upon the table have been obliterated; he stares at that vacancy and the blowing ash a long moment.

Before he nods.

Turning, he leads the way through the dark passage, towards the Jarl’s palace. It’s a long trek to get back to the center of Copenhagen. Not only that, but these ancient tunnels twist and turn, often branching in a way that makes Strom pause before he closes his eyes, feeling for the next cursed door.

Strom is confident as he draws on Baldur’s power to light up his curse-breaking skill like wildfire now, however, feeling the next passage we have to take to get to the next cursed door, and the next. He has a memory as good as mine, but I feel Strom’s inner darkness devouring him as he moves through these old tunnels where he last went with Alfhild Fey.

It startles Strom and me both when Baldur steps to Strom’s side, taking his hand as we walk. As Strom startles, stopping in the passage and glancing at Baldur, I see Baldur’s sad, honest smile. I feel him open his power even further, offering Strom light to banish the darkness. Strom takes it gratefully as he heaves a deep breath.

Squeezing Baldur’s hand with an easier smile, before dropping it and moving on .

It takes a long while, an hour or more that Mikkel doesn’t have, to get through the ancient labyrinth of underground tunnels. I feel Mikkel pass out two more times from torture as we walk—before Baldur stumbles in the passage, driving down hard onto one knee.

Baldur closes his eyes for a long moment before Strom helps him back up. I go to him in shock now; because I’ve only just noticed Baldur’s got a massive funnel of his power wide-open in our bond.

Right to Mikkel.

Baldur’s been expertly hiding it from me this entire time, that he’s been feeding Mikkel his own brightness to keep him going. He’s been doing it not just here in the tunnels, but all night; as we drove here, as we found Alfhild’s lair, even when Mikkel was first captured. It’s only now that I realize Baldur’s been dividing his power ever since my Third Drake was captured, sending Mikkel the largest part of his energy.

To keep him hale and alive until we can come and free him.

“Baldur!” I come to him, my Fourth Drake leaning heavily on Strom now.

Wiped.

“Couldn’t hide what I was doing from you anymore, could I?” he says wryly now as a sad smile takes him. As I come to him in the passage, cupping his face in my hands, I feel how deathly cold he is.

Not Baldur’s usual—his incredible sunlight nearly tapped out.

“Jesus! You’re cold as stone,” I say as I cuddle close to him, wrapping my arms around his waist.

“I’ll be alright a little longer.” He is calm as he kisses my temple.

“You’ve been healing Mikkel this entire time.” Something like respect is shining in Bjorn’s eyes now as he comes to us. “You’ve been healing Mikkel after each round of torture. That’s why he hasn’t been permanently maimed, even though he hasn’t been able to shift.”

“His power and mine are dissimilar enough that I can’t give him what he needs to shift and break his chains.” Baldur is apologetic now as he watches Bjorn, then me. “I could only give him power to heal after each round of damage. Unfortunately, it makes his guards just give him more each time they see his flesh cease to drip blood—and it takes more from me than I had expected.”

“Take mine.” Bjorn steps in now, as he offers Baldur his hand. “Use my power, because Strom needs his for curse breaking right now, supported by Rikyava. I’m not needed in that fight—use my power with yours to bolster Mikkel. It’ll go better if there are two of us.”

“Are you sure?” Baldur lifts an eyebrow at Bjorn, as shocked as I am that Bjorn has suddenly decided to play nice.

But my First Drake knows when all hands are needed for a battle, and he knows how to cooperate when lives are on the line. He says nothing, only nods.

And Baldur takes his hand.

I feel it as the most amazing power-up happens between them. Like with Strom when Mikkel became mine, a magnificent combustion of power flares between Bjorn and Baldur, as their inner Blood Magics recognize each other.

They’re like a towering blaze of light in the darkness, as both suddenly flare white-blue and crimson-gold from their united power. I’ve never seen anything like it, as both their magics rush around the space now in a united Bloodwind, hurtling out from their inner drakes joining in an ancient, timeless dance.

It’s not a Bloodmate union but close to it, as I feel insane power rush through them both now—ten times what they had before—because Baldur’s power resonates with Bjorn’s and Bjorn’s with Baldur’s. That synergy rings both their magics like a symphony of bells now, as both drakes roar.

And their combined magic hurtles towards Mikkel—shifting him up and bursting his chains.

The manacles on Mikkel’s wrists and ankles shatter as he receives all that incredible power from Baldur and Bjorn. I hadn’t planned on joining it, or Strom, but our energies are twisting into the mix now, unable to withstand, or stand separate from, the incredible might Bjorn and Baldur are creating.

As all our magics twist together from our inner dragons joining the fight, I feel my internal drake and drakaina crash together, renewed in my Bloodwalker power.

It regenerates Mikkel in an instant, as he roars to the skies and thunders the prison catacomb he’s in. He’s free of his manacles, but still trapped inside the rune-insulated prison of the Jarl’s palace. He spews terrible chartreuse green poison all around him now, however, decimating the guards that tortured him and making many of them shift up inside the space to heal the damage, then busts through L?rke’s prison with his black mamba’s head.

L?rke is renewed now that her brother is free, celebrating all through her mad drakaina as she casts poison anew, decimating more of the drakes who were their captors. They can’t escape the gargantuan underground vault they’re trapped in, but both begin bashing their strong, blocky heads against the walls now, ripping at the stone with their talons to tear the prison walls down, as they smash at the stone with their spiked tails.

They’re a terrible power duo as the guards back off, shifting into their own dragons and throwing up a nasty cordon of magic to keep the twins contained. But Mikkel and L?rke blast their unique chartreuse green poison everywhere now, melting that barrier, even as solid stone bubbles and burns from their incredible wrath.

I hear it, as an alarm goes off throughout the Jarl’s palace.

And I know our element of surprise has been taken.“Shit!” I curse, as a fuck-ton of new guards pour into Mikkel and L?rke’s underground prison, shifting up. Because a battle has begun in the dungeons as the twins take on their captors now.

I know Emil Beck and his force will hear that alarm and begin their assault on the palace’s front. Because that was our agreed-upon signal for Emil’s distraction to begin—though we were supposed to be inside the palace by then, liberating the twins.

“The alarm’s gone off. We’re out of time.” I turn to my drakes. Everyone is shocked at what just happened, thanks to our power, and they know as much as I do that our time is up.

As Strom gives a curt nod, he hauls ass—trotting fast down the passage now as he feels our next cursed door up ahead. Bjorn gets Baldur under his arm, racing them both on as I stride at their sides. As we get to Strom, he’s already got the next door unlocked stat, thanks to our united amalgamation of magic still flowing through us.

Not to mention Mikkel’s wrathful power now, as he fights with renewed energy and flesh.

Relief pours through me as I see we’ve come through the last door, even though I know we have to fight next. Because I see we’ve emerged somewhere deep beneath Amalienborg Palace, which is ten times larger than it is in the human world, built on far older Danish Blood Dragon palaces that have come and gone over the years.

We’ve come out in some kind of ornate underground palace cistern; gesturing to us and rushing on, Strom knows where he’s going now, as we head through the gleaming cistern inlaid with beautiful designs of gold and silver, then rush up a staircase that leads us into the palace proper.

It’s a shitstorm already, as we arrive in the lowest halls that lead to the dungeons. As guards hurtle around the corner, shocking to a halt to see us, we suddenly clash in the passages.

But though they have cunning magic, wielded in coordinated drives despite the current chaos, we are bonded. Bjorn, Strom, Baldur, and I have the six guards out in an instant, as we leap over them and rush onward to where we feel Mikkel battling inside his prison ahead.

As we turn another corner, finding ourselves in the prison’s foyer right before Mikkel and L?rke’s door, Mikkel feels us arrive. He blasts that rune-encrypted door with a massive gout of poison, shredding it as holes blister through it like acid .

Fifty of the Jarl’s guards are in that foyer now, between us and Mikkel.

Everyone is surprised as we all shift up.

Launching into a battle that no one saw coming, including us.