When I return to the rock’s shelter, I stop and stare at my work, rolling my eyes at my severe lack of knowledge. I might not have disrupted the circles, but did I disrupt the magick by leaving it?
There’s only one way to know, so I sit down and try again.
“Nahmthalahsh. Show me the God of the North, the White Wolf.”
The water froths into white foam, and after a blink of my eyes, morphs into a bowl of useless snow. I toss the fluff and slam the scrying dish onto the sand and rocks.
“Such a curious woman,” a deep voice says, caressing my ear. “Quite the little voyeur, aren’t you?”
I go still as the ancient stone behind me, my hands tightening on my vessel’s rim.
I know that voice. Neri.
Discreetly, I rub my still-bleeding fingertip against the wood to center my mind so that I don’t somehow inadvertently signal Alexus through the rune. Like he worried about Neri rupturing the summoning of Thamaos, I worry about what might happen if the Witch Collector senses my trouble and storms to the shore. Though I should probably welcome that idea, Neri is right. I’m as curious as ever.
I don’t know if it’s possible to communicate with a god who doesn’t know my hand language, but before I can sign, he says, “Thank you for sparing me Un Drallag’s presence. Have you any idea what being trapped inside that lover of yours was like for me? I owe him much misery.”
My heart races, and my breaths come fast.
He can hear my thoughts.
The air tightens, compressing against my skin, and his voice deepens to a growl, grows colder. “I only hear your mind because you called me here. So that’s your fault, Seer.”
Even as a cold night descends, beads of sweat pearl on my forehead. I form a thought in my mind. “I didn’t think it would actually work.”
And I didn’t. I’d only hoped.
“And yet here you are, asking your gift to find me. In Loria’s name. That, to cure your ignorance, is a true summons. Not this ludicrous rune circle.” Suddenly, the sand around me scatters like a wind just rushed across the shore. “That magick is for Thamaos’s ego, and you did it incorrectly anyway. Only those who’ve been involved in a deal with me in some manner can seek me out. But I distinctly recall telling you not to do so. Now, what am I supposed to do about such disobedience?”
Uncertainty tremors in my bones. Do I reach for Alexus through the bond or just run? Somehow, I sense that both scenarios would be thwarted, so I sit my dish aside instead and look around the empty lakeshore, simultaneously slipping my hand down the outside of my thigh to my dagger’s hilt.
Neri laughs again, a menacing sound that rumbles through the pit of my stomach, matching the distant roll of thunder. But around that laugh, the air tinkles and chimes like tiny bells of ice have been strung through the willows.
A frigid fog rolls off the water, and the lakeshore turns hoary with frost. One moment I’m alone, shivering with low-thrumming panic, and the next Neri is there, a crystalizing, hulking form squatting beside me.
On the edge of my vision, his wolfish face comes into focus a short distance from mine. With an unnaturally quick tilt of his head, he bores his gaze into my skull, reminding me of those agonizing seconds when his wolf cornered me on Winter Road. Slowly, trembling under his scrutiny, I gather the courage to meet his amber eyes.
It’s strange looking upon him. His skin is the same as I remember, white as snow and glittering like moonlight on the lake. He’s terrifying yet beautiful, the way the prowling white wolf is beautiful, stalking through a wintry wood—a thing to admire from a distance but to avoid at all costs.
He skims a glance over my face, and the corner of his mouth curls, revealing a long and deadly fang. “Terrifying and beautiful? Thank you for the compliment. Two kindnesses in a matter of minutes. Whatever did I do to deserve that?”
Leaning closer, he lifts a massive paw-like hand and trails a claw-tipped finger along my jaw. I sit unmoving as a thin dusting of frost forms in the wake of his touch.
My fingers tighten around my weapon’s hilt, my grip shaky and clammy. The blade is as useless as the dagger I clutched when Neri attacked Colden. What earthly weapon can be wielded against the soul of a god? Not my steel dagger, forged for close combat with the living. Not even the God Knife. But if Neri means to kill me, gods be damned if I’ll go down without a fight.
He tsks. “I’m not going to kill you, Seer. And no, your little knife is no threat. I show mercy because of your puerile nature, and because I suspect that, even with such inexperience, I’m going to need you in the future.” He angles his head again, his white, silky hair revealing a pointed ear and a thickly muscled shoulder. “Now tell me what you want from me,” he whispers.
A moment of uncertainty passes. Tell him or don’t? The decision is easier than I expect.
Again, I think the words.
“The Eastland Brotherhood has hidden the Prince of the East from me. I cannot see our enemy or what he has planned. You can help me. Help your people. Restore their faith in you.”
He laughs, the sound so powerful it ripples the lake. “You would have to make me a deal,” he replies. “And I doubt you’ll be willing to grant what I desire, no matter how badly you want help.”
My eyes narrow into a glare. His words are meant to be elusive. They feel like a puzzle, something I’m meant to sort out, yet he hasn’t given me enough clues.
“I don’t play games,” he says. “I want to be resurrected so I can stop Thamaos’s return. Why do you think I’ve followed you this far? I listen. I hear. I see. I know.” He pauses. Curls his lips over his fangs. “I saw your lover summon Thamaos in the wood. I will not watch that monster live again while I’m hunted and sent back to the Shadow World, because that is what he will try to do. Anyone who thinks otherwise is a fool or severely manipulated. If you help to bring me back before that dark prince succeeds in digging up his wretched lord, I’ll help you with whatever you ask of me. If you don’t, we each fend for ourselves.” He leans back, broad chest lustrous as a moonstone. “Now, do you want to deal or not?”
