Sorcerer's Feud

  Tor stood naked by the window and grinned at me. I stepped out of the shorts and rushed to his arms. He pulled me close, kissed me open-mouthed, then walked me backwards to our bed. Energy swirled around us as his body threw off élan. The smell of roses and honey overpowered me as I breathed it in. I was barely aware of his hands, turning me around, his hands on my breasts as he bent me over the edge of the bed and took me from behind.

  I cried aloud with pleasure and felt him climax. With a gasp he let me go. We fell on the bed together and rolled into each other’s arms.

  Chapter 4

  We stayed in bed all morning. Lust was only part of it. We both needed to feel safe and close while we talked over the moon nights just past. Tor had realized what the alarm noise meant, he told me, and he knew that the police had come.

  “I suppose they made a report about it,” I said. “I bet that Lieutenant Hu will get a copy, too.”

  “Probably. I wonder if they think I’m a drug dealer?”

  “Why do you think they would?”

  “A lot of shootings come down over drugs. Consider: a witness sees you hand Roman a wad of cash, Nils appears, fires at me. Deal gone wrong? To a cop, drugs would make more sense than arguing over a will.” He grinned at me. “They’ve got no idea how rotten rich people can be.”

  “Well, maybe.” I was in no mood for jokes. “But what about the other night? Do you remember your phone ringing?”

  “Yeah. Let me check something out.”

  Tor got out of bed and fetched the phone from his dresser. He lay back down and brought up the messages.

  “No message from the middle of the night. It might have just been a wrong number.”

  “Do you really think so? I’m worried about that guy who wanted Nils’ papers.”

  “The lawyer never would have given him my phone number. Not even my name. The prowler worries me a lot more.”

  “Unless it’s the same person.”

  “It could be, yeah, but I suspect some ordinary kind of break-in artist. Everyone knows that you need money to live up here. That means you’ve got stuff worth stealing.”

  “But a pro would know what a security system means. We’ve got signs posted in the front window and up on the hill.”

  Tor started to speak, then clicked off the phone and put it down on the nightstand. “That’s true,” he said. “But I can’t see what else it would be. I need to go through the papers more carefully. So far I haven’t seen anything anyone but me would want.”

  “What about information on the gold plaque?”

  “Now there’s a thought, yeah! I’ll cast the staves and see what they can tell us.” Tor stretched his arms over his head and winced. “Do we have any of that sports rub?”

  “I bought some at the store last time I went. I knew you’d need it.”

  We took a shower together before I rubbed him down with Ben-gay. His shoulders and upper arms were bruised from the bjarki’s attempts to escape, but the damage looked much lighter than it had after the previous full moon.

  “I had a little more control of the bear this time,” Tor said. “I’m pretty sure it’s because I know now that I don’t physically change. I still see a bear when I look in the mirror, but now I know it’s an illusion.” He paused to kiss me. “Thanks to you.”

  Take that, you stupid sow! was my first thought. Aloud, I’m afraid I kind of simpered. “Well, it wasn’t all me.”

  “Yes, it was! Don’t be so damn humble! You’re the one who saw through the illusion. You’re the one who came up with a way for me to see it. Maya, claim it! It’s your success. Take the credit!”

  “Okay, okay. You’re right.”

  And why, I wondered, hadn’t I wanted to claim it? Female conditioning had to be part of it, but not all. Maybe because avoiding the credit seemed safer than admitting my talents.

  Once we dressed, Tor made us both coffee and pulled up a stool at the breakfast bar to keep me company while I ate. Now that he’d come back safely, I felt normal hunger again. I loaded up a plate with bran muffins and fruit and cheese and pitched in.

  “Don’t you want lunch?” I said.

  “No. The bjarki finished half a salmon last night. Which reminds me, I need to clean up the bones. The refrigerator’s a mess now.”

  I made a yuk! face.

  “Bears have lousy table manners.” Tor grinned at me, then let the smile face into thoughtfulness. “But this time I learned a lot. I could think while I was possessed. At least during the day, not so much at night.”

  “I bet, with the full moon shining down.”

  “The big question is the moon’s role. Why would the moon phase affect the shapechanger? That doesn’t make sense. It’s got to affect the spirits instead. The ones trying to possess us, the human victims, I mean.” He paused for a sip of coffee. “It must open a gate or signal some kind of power tide that gives the spirit an edge.”

  “But what about the virus?”

  “That’s what makes the shapechanger vulnerable. It weakens you enough so you can’t fight back. The spirits can creep in and take over. They see their chance to get a body, Maya. They don’t understand that they can’t live here permanently.”

  “But you’re male, and she’s female.”

  “True.” Tor frowned in thought. “She must be up to something else.”

  “Huh! I bet I know.”

  “What? You’re not jealous of her, are you?”

  I felt my face heat up with a blush. He laughed, the jerk! I swear he looked pleased that females might be fighting over him. I concentrated on eating for a few minutes, then decided to get back to the original subject.

  “About the virus,” I said. “If it gives the spirit power over you, then why don’t you change permanently?”

  Tor let his arrogant grin fade. “Once the moon wanes, they lose power, and a healthy shapechanger can throw them off. That’s what I mean about the moon’s role. It’s crucial to the process. Somehow.”

  “What if someone’s sick or weak? Really sick, like with a chronic disease, not just a cold or something.”

  “I’m willing to bet that they’d be trapped with the spirit in charge.”

  “You don’t think they’d stay a wolf or a bear, do you? Physically, I mean.”

  “Probably not that, or only at the full moon.” He considered the coffee in his mug and frowned. “I don’t know, but I’d guess that the human body shape would come back for most of the month, revert to its own genetic nature, but the spirit would still live inside it somewhere.”

  “God, that’s creepy!”

  “Yeah, it sure is. I’ve got to get control of this thing, Maya. I can’t live like this for the next forty years, fighting her off every fucking month until I’m too old to fight anymore.” He spoke quietly, but his eyes narrowed and turned cold, as if he were looking down a tunnel of time and seeing the horror waiting for him. “I’ve got to translate the inscription on that gold plaque, just to start with. I’m pretty sure it’s got information about the curse.” He hesitated, then shrugged as if he were dismissing an objection to something. “Y’know, I wonder why you haven’t picked up the virus from me.”

  “You’ve never bitten me.”

  “And I never will.” He smiled and held up one hand like a boy scout. “I promise.” The smile disappeared. “But you bit Nils and—well—“

  “Don’t make me remember!” For a moment I felt completely nauseated. I took a deep breath and calmed my protesting stomach down.

  “I’m sorry!” Tor caught my hand in both of his. “But we need to figure it out.”

  “I must be immune. It must be part of those different genes.”

  “It’s the only thing I can think of.” He raised my hand to his lips and kissed my fingers, then let it go. “And I’m damn glad of it, too.”

  Tor spent the rest of the day downstairs, brooding over the runes inscribed on the golden square. When he came back up to cook us an early dinner, he told me that he’d done a coup
le of rune stave readings and meditations as well.

  “I’m kind of worried about Joel,” he said. “I hope he’s not in danger. He showed up in one reading, but the second one wasn’t good or bad. Something’s hanging in the balance. That’s the only conclusion I can reach.”

  As it turned out, we heard from Joel Halvarsson the next day. In mid-morning, I was sitting on the couch drawing tree forms when Tor came upstairs, waving a handful of mail. “Here’s something I should have expected,” he said. “A letter from my cousin. The runes were ambiguous, but some kind of contact looked pretty possible.” He dumped the bills and junk mail onto the breakfast bar, then opened Joel’s letter. “Huh, Joel’s an IT guy at some big company.” He showed me the letterhead stationery. “The head IT guy, no less.”

  “Working with computers is a lot like sorcery, all those codes and images and stuff. I guess he does have the family talent.”

  Tor laughed, then read the letter aloud.

  “Hey, cousin, something I thought you should know. I just got a phone call at my day job from a man who wants to buy that box of Dad’s papers I sent you. He said he knew Dad and wanted something to remember him by. He had this weird accent, like maybe he’d just learned English. Reminded me of Grandpa Halvar’s accent. He kept dropping strange hints and questions about magic. I guess he thought I should know some kind of mysterious crapola. Which I don’t. The whole deal was fishy. I can’t put my finger on what was wrong with it, but I decided against telling him about you. He kept pressing me for info, and I finally cut him off. Said I couldn’t keeping wasting the boss’s time. I’ve got no idea how he even knew where I work. I don’t have your email, but mine’s in the letterhead. Let me know if you want to sell that stuff, and I’ll give him your name. I’ve got this weird feeling that this guy will be back.”

  “So do I.” Tor laid the letter down on the breakfast bar. “That’s Joel’s talent talking, what he’s got of it. Warning him, and a good thing, I bet. I don’t like the sound of this. Not at all.”

  “If this guy reads the will, he can find you.”

  “Yeah. If.”

  “Wills are matters of public record. If he knows where Joel filed it, all he has to do is go to the county courthouse and read it. I bet he can even find it online. And Nils put our address in the codicil.”

  “Oh.” Tor considered this for a long moment. “Great. That’s all we need, one of Nils’ crazy friends looking for his papers.”

  “How do you know he’s crazy?”

  “Just a wild guess.” He gave me one of his sly grins. “Anyone who’d want to be Nils’ friend has got to be crazy.”

  He laughed. I couldn’t.

  “I’ll email Joel right away,” Tor continued. “Tell him no, I’m not selling.”

  “You don’t think that maybe the guy’s a Neo-Nazi? You said that some of the papers were in German.”

  Tor stared at me as if I’d barked instead of spoke.

  “I don’t know why I said that,” I said. “It must sound dumb.”

  “Not dumb, no, but luckily I don’t think it’s relevant. The German pages are just some notes Nils copied out of a book on the Armanen rune system. Things he wanted to remember. Nothing political about it. Although—” He paused, thinking. “When it comes to the runes, you always have to be careful about edging toward the fucking Nazis.” His voice dropped toward a growl. “They believed some real shit things, distorted everything, twisted it. Polluted the runes.” He stopped to catch his breath. “Sorry. I get worked up, I know.”

  I tried to answer, but my throat had gone dry, and my heart was pounding.

  “Whoa!” Tor said. “You look terrified.”

  “I am.” I managed to croak out a few words. “I don’t know why.”

  “It might mean something. Think about it, okay?” Tor was re-reading the letter. “Joel says the guy’s accent reminded him of Halvar. Can’t be German, then. Something Nordic. Unless—”

  “Unless what?”

  “I keep thinking of the jötnar. But how in hell would one of them learn to use a telephone?” He shook his head. “Makes no sense.”

  Later that day the police, in the persons of Lieutenant Hu and his back-up cop, arrived at our door and asked for a few minutes of our time. Tor invited them upstairs like the innocent householder he was pretending to be, nerdy illusion and all. Although the uniformed officer sat down, Hu stood and glanced around the living room. I noticed that he seemed particularly interested in the jade mountain sculpture.

  “I saw the report on your prowler the other night,” Hu said to Tor. “It looks like you’ve got some things worth stealing, all right.”

  “Yeah, I do,” Tor said. “I own some European antiquities, as well, but those are small enough for me to keep them in the safe downstairs. One of them is solid gold.”

  “You’re very wise to keep those locked away.”

  “Thanks. I’m glad you stopped by. I remembered something you might want to know.”

  “Good.” Hu reached into his jacket and took a small notebook and ballpoint pen from his shirt pocket. “Do you mind if—”

  “Not at all. Did you know that Nils Halvarsson’s father was murdered?”

  Hu’s eyebrows quirked, and he coughed. The information was a shock to me, too. I suppressed a gasp, but the uniformed cop was looking my way with some interest. He wasn’t quite as indifferent to the case as he pretended to be. Hu sat down to make writing notes easier.

  “He was my grandfather, of course,” Tor said. “His name was Halvar Svansson, that’s s-v-a-n-s-s-o-n. The naming system—”

  “We know about that.” Hu looked up from his notebook. “Someone at the office looked it up.”

  “Ah, okay. Anyway, this happened in New York City in 2000, the summer. I don’t remember the exact date. I was just a teenager at the time. Not quite fifteen.”

  Hu nodded and wrote on.

  “Halvar was eighty that year. He was living in a suite in a real expensive hotel—I can find the name for you, if you can’t get it from the New York police. He’d moved to the city to be close to his son Nils, who was I think between wives at the moment.”

  “I take it he had plenty of money. Your grandfather, that is.”

  “He sure did, and the family was full of rumors as to how he’d gotten it, too. Some of his investments were kind of dubious, especially those he made in the 1940s after the war. Swiss industrialists who’d been a little too close to the Nazis, is one thing I heard.” Tor grinned at the lieutenant. “The family joke was, Iceland got too hot to hold him.”

  The uniformed cop snorted. Hu ignored the humor.

  “Anyway,” Tor continued, “one summer night he went for a walk and never came back. The hotel staff put out the alarm, and the police found him. His throat was cut, and his body dumped in an alley. Right in the middle of the city, but no one had seen a thing. If you believe them, anyway.”

  “That’s New York for you,” Hu said. “Did they ever catch the perpetrator?”

  “No. My father was pretty upset by that.”

  “I bet. Your immediate family—where were they, and I presume you, at that time?”

  “Living in Mill Valley. Do you want that address?”

  “Not necessary. Your parents, is it possible for me to interview them?”

  “My father’s dead. He died of elder-onset leukemia two years ago. My mother moved back to Iceland to live with my sister and her family there. But I’m sure she’d be glad to answer questions if you want to reach her.”

  “Iceland again.” Hu sighed like a Roman Christian hearing the lions roar. “In the Bay Area we have police officers who speak over a hundred languages between them, but not one of them speaks Icelandic.” He thought for a moment. “You mentioned that Nils Halvarsson was living in New York City at the time of the murder.”

  “Yes, I’m sure he was.”

  “Did he take part in any of his father’s dubious business dealings?”

  “I honestly don?
??t know. No one would have told me anything about it, since I was just a kid.”

  “Yes, most likely not. Well, there are other sources, now that I know Halvarsson’s father’s death was a police matter. Thank you, Mr. Thorlaksson. You’ve been very helpful.” Hu nodded my way. “Miss Cantescu, sorry to disturb you again.”

  On this wave of alleged good feeling, Tor showed them out. When he rejoined me in the living room, he looked totally pleased with himself.

  “That’ll give the dogs a new scent to follow,” he said.

  “I hope so. I didn’t like the way the guy in uniform was looking at me. Like he was judging my reaction to everything.”

  “What? Maya, you’re getting paranoid. You’re beautiful. He’s male. Of course he was looking at you. I noticed. He’s a cop, or I would have challenged him over it.”

  Somehow this obvious explanation hadn’t occurred to me. Tor must be right, I thought. I am getting paranoid.

  “Come to think of it,” Tor went on, “I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Nils was involved in whatever Halvar’s dirty business was.”

  “I wonder if Nils killed him.”

  “He’d finally had enough of the old man’s shit? Could be. If Nils cast one of his aversion spells, it would explain the lack of witnesses. Or if Halvar was killed inside somewhere and then dumped, that would explain it, too.”

  “Have you found anything about his suspicious business deals in those journals?”

  “Not yet. I’ve only just started reading them. I’ve been classifying them by date and type first. Doing a quick skim through of each, to see what’s in it.”

  “It’s you mentioning Nazis that made me wonder.”

  “Nazis again, huh? Tell you what. Let’s go downstairs, and I’ll read your rune staves.”

  Down in Tor’s workshop, a brown cardboard banker’s box was sitting on the high table with a couple of tidy stacks of yellowing, dusty papers and leather-bound notebooks next to it. Tor pointed to the stacks.