Page 197 of Veil of Blood and Bone

At last we’re not on the offensive anymore.

We drew the assassin into place, and damn but he fell for it.

Nicholas wrenches his arm free, swaying to the side. I push him back, ignoring his stumble, and shove more shadows into the wound on Isvargr’s chest. Thick pools of ice melt around the hit, dripping along trembling front legs. I brace for the next hit and punch deeper until shadows latch on his spinal cord, partially exposed on the other side.

Harder.

Rapt, I slice through his vertebrae as my power flares and empties into a sliver of its former glory.

With a quick, neat, goddamn elegant flick, I snap ice and dodge Isvargr when he drops to the earth.

Ichor stains my clothing.

Nicholas leaps up, landing hard on the giant’s back a third time. This time the collision sends a cascade of broken ice down to the creature’s haunches.

The rough ground rumbles, and Helene goes flying with a furious cry.

Vibrations ripple out through the woods, and Isvargr twists his head up a final time, snarling a follow-up strike.

There will be hell to pay for this, Stonebreaker. His voice ebbs, flickering and faint.

“Excellent. My favorite kind.”

I slash shadows through the last of his defenses, shockwaves running up my arms. Then the jötun falls still. He doesn’t move again.

Chapter 40

Nicholas

This was no quick, neat death. No snap of a blade or a clear ring of metal against metal.

Battles used to be simple. A twist of a sword and every subsequent hit sent your enemy backward. Many times I’d taken out the stress of leadership on whatever poor bastard met me on the battlefield.

Now I drop to one knee, healing at last spreading through me with Isvargr’s demise.

We did it. We took down the fucking ice wolf of Jötunheimr.

Helene’s eyes are wide when I glance at her, surprise flashing across her face. Alive. Bleeding.

For the first time my hunger doesn’t rise, though I’m filled with the sudden rush of unease.

Helene has seen something she wasn’t prepared to see. Shock, pain, I understand those flashes of emotion.

But when I fix my eyes to hers, I can’t place her expression.

She does her best to school her features into something less vulnerable and open, but she’s given something away she hadn’t expected. Something she shouldn't have.

Wren clears his throat. “I don’t suppose anyone wants to say a few words for our poor, frozen friend?”

Isvargr melts away, his corpse trickling into the icy ground until only the suggestion of the wolf’s carcass remains. Soon even that will disappear and leave only the carnage behind.

I straighten, shaking off the last bits of flaking dead skin. New epidermis with my old blemishes surface and I scrub a hand along my forearm to slough off the rest.

“You…you killed it.”

“I believe we did,” I reply.

She clears her throat. “What was it?”