The Singer

“Is the car going to be safe here?”

“It will be fine. She’ll send someone down for it if she decides to let us stay. I know they keep some cars there, so they must have a place to park them out of the weather.”

“What do you mean, ‘if she decides to let us stay’?”

He shrugged. “She’ll allow you to stay, I’m sure, but she won’t want me.” He couldn’t hide the pain that crossed his face as he said, “She’ll be angry I showed up without an invitation.”

“But you said that you wouldn’t leave me here.” A wild flutter of panic filled her chest. Damien might have been the grumpiest travel companion she’d ever had, but she knew him. And she knew he’d saw off his right arm to keep her safe. “You promised—”

“Yes, I did.” He narrowed his eyes. “You let me worry about Sari. I’m not going anywhere.”

He buttoned up his jacket and threw on the pack. Then he walked over and tightened up the drawstring around her neck. “It’s colder here than you’re used to.”

“I’ve been in cold weather before.”

He shook his head. “Not like here.”

Ava batted his hand away and sneered. “Actually, exactly like here. A magazine sent me to the fjords a couple of years ago to cover a new luxury hotel that was built to be completely self-sustaining. And that was in November. I get it. It’s cold and wet and the weather changes in five minutes. Now stop fussing and let’s walk.”

“Fine.”

“Good.” Ava couldn’t let his concern weaken her. She’d allowed herself to be soft and trusting with one man. She’d given him everything and he’d died. It wouldn’t happen again.

The path was steep, climbing up one of the narrow valleys cut by glaciers at the dawn of time. Thick forest surrounded them, and the well-worn path quickly turned muddy when the rain began to fall. Ava saw no signs of life. No tire tracks or footprints. The only indication they weren’t completely alone was the occasional rustle in the forest that could have been an animal… or something more.

Damien walked with grim purpose, never ceasing, turning only to check that she was still with him. Luckily, Ava had always been a good hiker. Her years of work in remote places left her as comfortable outdoors as she was in the city. The boots she wore were almost a carbon copy of the ones she kept in her room at her mother’s house, only less worn. She marched with Damien, never slowing as they climbed.

They’d almost reached the crest of a hill when she saw him stumble. Damien halted for a second, then took a step back, his foot sliding in the mud.

“Damien?”

“Keep walking.” His voice sounded strained. “Just keep walking, Ava.”

She walked closer, noticing that the strain in his voice was evident on his face, too. “What’s going on?”

“You can’t hear it?”

“I don’t hear anything.”

“Good. Keep walking.” He looked as if every step he took pained him. A vein began to pulse on the side of his forehead. With a low grunt, he picked up his feet, the mud sucking at them as he forced himself farther up the hill.

“What’s going on?”

His jaw clenched, he said, “She knows we’re here.”

Ava looked around but could see nothing. The hill they’d climbed led into a small meadow, then the muddy path led up another hill.

“How?”

“With her magic, she knows. This is her land.”

Ava thought she heard a howling sound whip through the wind, like the cry of a bird high in the air. The rain fell harder, soaking her collar, even though her hood was drawn up. Damien grabbed her hand, pulling her along the path. The forest seemed to close in the farther they walked. The green meadow narrowed as they approached another rock-strewn hill, the path twisting back and forth up the mountain. Ava pulled back, worried that Damien was hurting himself. His face had gone pale under the dark stubble he hadn’t bothered to shave.

“Ava, we have to keep walking.”

“You’re hurt.”

He shook his head and said under his breath, “I’ll hurt worse before this is through.”

The cry on the wind died away, and Ava heard what Damien had been talking about. A low hum drifted down the mountain and brushed along her body. Goose bumps rose on her skin, and the hair at the back of her neck prickled with sudden cold.

“What is that?” she asked. “Where… where is it coming from?”

“Irina,” Damien whispered, his eyes rising. “Now you’ll see why they are feared.”

Ava followed his gaze to see three grey figures at the top of the hill. They strode with purpose; the one in the center carried a long staff that struck the ground with each step. Another carried a sword, and the third held nothing, hands tucked out of sight. All three wore heavy coats in dark colors, but as they approached, Ava could see they were women.

The one in the center was tall, with strong, square shoulders and legs that ate up the ground beneath her. She pushed back her hood and the wind whipped long blond hair across her face, but Ava could see her eyes, vivid blue as the northern sky, piercing Damien where he stood. The woman’s stunning features were frozen in anger.

He stepped forward and took a ready stance as Ava saw the woman’s mouth open. Her lips moved, and a second later, a whisper wrapped around Ava, forcing her to the side as Damien was flung back, tumbling down the hill.