The reason why he killed me is entirely understandable from his point of view.You see, dear niece, unlike the Midnight Riders, my son cannot live forever.
Only certain types of human blood can regenerate Wulf in the same way it does the others.He went on a killing spree the moment he was old enough to venture out alone without anyone commenting on it.
I was able to find a way to control Wulf, but the recipe only lasted as long as my fertility did.
My last hope disappeared when the menopause came and went.I am going to try and get help from Dr.de Doorns in Minneapolis, see if he can’t jump start my menstrual cycle again.If that doesn’t work, then I leave it up to you to solve the problem.
Vince Pruitt doesn’t just deal in fake motor registrations, birth certificates, and driver’s licenses.He gets me my supply of DNA polymerase enzymes too.Make sure you stock up with enough to brew a large batch in time for winter.He can’t get more after we are iced in.
And please remember—this is important—keep the batches separate.
Use your venal blood for the MC and your lunar cycle bleeding for the other.This is crucial.Only your lunar cycle blood will be able to control Wulf, my monstrous half-breed son, and stop him from sucking you dry.
Only then will you be safe from his savage unpredictability.
When you have time, I have written down the story of the Riders for you to read.
Hide the recipe in the cubby where the MC stays out of the sunlight in the brewery basement.You will find everything else you need down there.
All my paranoia and worry about Shadow fades as I begin reading the origins of Landslide’s Midnight Sons.
ChapterTwenty-Two
Landslide Origins
“Grandfather told me there was once a wall of summer ice and snow where the wilderness now lies.”
My half-brother, Heikkinen, is on watch duty with me on the east-facing platform of the palisade.We received ourgáktitogether, after surviving thirteen winters as boys.This night, we have been calling ourselves men for over ten years.
He is married.I am not.My heart remains as frozen as the northern mountains.
We have only one job.To be on the lookout for danger and fight to the death to protect the tribe if or when it comes.
“We are the people of the Fell-Sapmi tribe, brother,” Heikkinen grunts.“Summer ice and snow runs in our veins.The midnight sun makes us strong.”
The ladder creaks as a heavy body climbs up.The man throws back the hood of his cloak when he sticks it through the trapdoor.
“Our brethren to the east have sent word.”Rundas, Balto’s eldest son, is here to bring us news.“The wild wolf warriors of Karelia have reached the land of the Tundra Nenets.The tribe has fallen.”
“Why are those Ural mountain heathens constantly warring?We have no winter supplies left for them to steal.”Heikkinen is weary from the disturbing news.
The killing spree of the Ural mountain tribes has its origin in Carpathia.The deadly frenzy has spread slowly, but in the last few years it seems to have built the momentum of a wildfire.It is said the soldiers wear the fur of wolves—and they fight like the beast, too, using their teeth when their swords are blunt from hacking.
Making himself comfortable on the platform sitting cross-legged, Rundas explains.
“We worship the god of war as well as the next man, but some survivors have spread the rumor that the Carpathian-Karelians worship a different god now.She is the goddess of death.They call her Queen.They are mad with bloodlust when she drives them into battle ahead of her.They say she is deathless and all mighty.”
Heikkinen grabs his crotch and laughs.“I will fuck the bitch halfway to the warrior’s hall in the sky if she really wants to see death.”
We smile through our wind-chapped lips.
“Rumors are like the wind.Welcome in summer and cutting in winter.It will be the spring equinox in two moons.The Karelians only fight during the long nights of winter.We will be safe until the next snowfall.”
The sound of a horn blowing interrupts my optimistic forecast.
Crunching snow alerts us to the man outside the palisade.His face is pale under the moonlit darkness.
“Bija mu sisa!”He speaks our language, the tongue of the north, so we will let him in.All three of us clamber down the ladder.Heikkinen lifts the barricade as Rundas and I push the gate open.
