“I think this is a bit more important than training. If we can’t get inside the barrier to fix the event that changed the war, Midgard will be ruled by Hitler and his Third Reich. Everything you fought for during the six years of war and millions of souls will be forever lost.” Alva glared at Raisa, then pinned her flashing green gaze on all four Night Witches. “Your deaths and rebirths will have been for nothing.”
Silence hung like a heavy cloak over the group for only a few seconds before two werewolves shimmered into view behind Raisa and Ailuin. Having fought side by side with both, Bernard knew they were as opposite as night and day, in both features and personalities. Maxim was the group’s leader with black fur and eyes. The other werewolf was silent and more philosophical. Kazimir’s fur was silvery white and he had brilliant-blue eyes.
“Our apologies for being late,” the black wolf said. His deep voice rumbled, as if there were rocks in his throat. “There was a small incident during practice that needed to be dealt with.”
Raisa turned and gripped Maxim’s arm. “Who got hurt?”
“Demyan and Taras were learning a new maneuver. Demyan came out on the short end of the stick. Idunn has returned and was kind enough to heal him.” Maxim turned to the nearest draugr, his eyes widening. “What in holy hell are these creatures?”
“It’s good that Idunn’s back,” Freyja said. “We might need her healing powers when this is all said and done. These are called draugar. They are cursed men, stuck in limbo, neither dead nor living. As you know, Óðinn sends his Valkyrie to gather fallen heroes on the battlefield. They choose half and leave the other half for me. The Alfaðir’s, or Allfather’s, army trains every day, heals at night, and begins again the next day so they can serve and fight alongside Óðinn when Ragnarok begins.”
Freyja’s purple gaze speared Bernard’s. “My warriors are like you. I send them forth into the Nine Worlds to fight against those who believe they should have the power over life and death. These, unfortunately, are the souls left behind, the ones who never arrive at Helheimr. It is said they barter their services, but we’ve never been able to prove it.”
“How are we supposed to stop these draugar, if they’re neither alive nor dead?” Natalya’s pretty face pinched with worry.
“Well, the preferred method is to cut off the head, burn the body, and then scatter the ashes into the sea. They are sensitive to iron but are immune to most weapons. In ancient times, a hero had to wrestle them back to their grave.”
Natalya’s unease disappeared as one shapely eyebrow rose. “So, we can’t do much, and it won’t be easy.”
Freyja shook her head. “No, it is definitely not easy.”
Bernard sent a thoughtful glance to the creature he’d studied earlier. “What does magic do? Will it even affect them?”
“Once, a long time ago, when Óðinn and I were on speaking terms, our combined magic pushed them back enough that Thor and Sif were able—believe it or not, with Loki’s help—to banish them back into their graves. We sealed them in their tombs with a containment spell, so whoever released them is extremely powerful.”
Bernard stared at the nearest creature and noticed its eyes were not as empty as he’d first thought. They were more of a dark gray with a hint of color in their center. Squinting, he could just make out a blue circle. A band of what looked to be silver with faint etchings across it was wrapped across the draugr’s forehead. The draugr on the left had faint green circles in its eyes. The creature to the right of the first draugr had blue circles in the depths of its eyes, making them all seem a bit more human, which was a somewhat comforting thought.
Another question popped into his tired mind, and he turned back to Natalya. “Is your magic, and that of the other three Night Witches, the same or different?”
“Both,” she replied. “I’m good at blowing things up and starting fires.”
“Evidently, I’m able to calm anyone or anything around me. I can also fade into the background. Like a chameleon,” Aleksandra said, then turned to the blond woman standing beside her. “Lilyann has an uncanny ability to ferret out information and coerce people into doing things they don’t want to do.” She chuckled. “She could do that well, though, before Freyja’s gift. And Raisa...well, she can do just about anything. She’s a demigod.”
Bernard’s brows rose, his attention trained on the red-haired Night Witch. “Really?”
Raisa nodded. “Freyr is my grandfather.”
Bernard whistled. “Impressive. Now, I understand why the werewolves accepted you as their queen. I’ve felt your power when you ease their pain, and with Freyr’s sense of justice and honor flowing in your blood, it can be a powerful weapon.” He bit back the smile threatening to appear when Raisa’s beautiful face turned a soft shade of pink.
His glance then touched on each male, finally resting on Mikhail. “And the four of you also have magic, correct?”
“We do. I have precognition. Charles has brute strength and sees the dead. When he and Lilyann touch, they can pull the dead to them on a more permanent basis—”
“Only if they wish,” Lilyann interrupted.
Mikhail sent his sister-in-law a quick wink. “Yes, if they choose.” Mikhail returned his gaze to Bernard. “You already know Ailuin doesn’t have magic, he is magic, like all the elves. Jakob’s talents are still manifesting, but his sniper abilities, which were uncanny during the war, seem to be fine-tuning themselves. He can see the results of a battle in his mind’s eye, which makes him invaluable in a situation just like this.”
Bernard nodded, impressed with each man, but he couldn’t stop a tiny grain of resentment from bubbling to the surface. The only magical thing he could do was transport between Midgard, Asgard, and Alfheimr on his own. In his opinion, that didn’t amount to much. “All impressive, and it gives me a tentative idea as to our next move. There are enough of us to form an inner circle. We can create our own ring of power, so to speak, that may counteract the draugar’s. Since each couple’s power is stronger together, we stay together.”